Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
I feel her lips against my neck and it’s not so much a kiss as a touch of her lips, but I close my eyes because I feel that simple touch all the way to my soul. Others might laugh, say I’ve been alone too long. I don’t give a fuck. Just because women are in short supply here, it doesn’t mean I had to do without one. I’ve been alone because I chose to be. I learned long ago that fucking for the sake of getting my cock wet was empty. I wanted more. Carly is more for me. I have a feeling that in no time, she could be everything.
I flip over on my back and pull her on top of me. I do this as gently as I can. She’s still asleep and I know when she wakes she will do her best to push at me again—and try to back away from what we have started. I don’t know why she’s freaking out; I don’t understand. In our letters to each other, she seemed satisfied. Whatever it is, I’ll fight it. I don’t have a choice, because I’m not giving her up. I just hope she doesn’t expect me to go slow.
As she settles against my stomach and I wrap my arms around her, she lets out a soft sigh. This is right. I’ll make her see it too. I am not giving her up.
I can’t.
Chapter Eight
Carly
“What’s this?” Stone asks, coming into the kitchen wearing a pair of loose gym pants. They’re cinched around his waist, the string hanging down, and the pants themselves hang low on him, revealing this perfect ‘V’ in his muscles. I thought I might have imagined just how amazing his body looked yesterday. If anything, he looks better. I bite my lip as I take in all that is him. A shiver runs through me and I can feel my panties get wet. I’m lucky they didn’t spontaneously combust. I can say one thing for Tally—she knows how to hit the motherlode. “Carly?”
“What?”
“My eyes are up here, baby.”
It’s then I realize that my eyes are glued to his crotch—specifically the outline of his dick. A dick which seems to be rising with every second that ticks by.
Holy moly!
“I’m sorry, what?” I say, clearing my throat and looking up at him, trying to appear innocent—and not the woman who just checked out his package like it was an ice cream cone and she had been on a diet for way too many years.
“I said what is all of this?” he says with a smirk that lets me know I’m not fooling him. I look at his face, and the half smile he’s wearing, and the way his long hair falls back on his shoulders and shrouds part of his face. This is a different view of him, and it’s just as good, if that’s possible. Yeah. Tally really, really knows how to hit the motherlode.
“You have a really nice smile.”
His eyes dilate and he seems surprised at my words and then his smile broadens and I feel a hundred butterflies take flight in my stomach. Definitely a great smile.
He steps in close to me, his hand coming up to slide against the side of my face and hold me there, tenderly. He tilts my head to look up at him, and I do have to—despite the fact that he’s bending down. His hair seems to fan out, surrounding us and cocooning us from the rest of the world. I find I like that feeling a lot. Maybe Tally was right and Stone is the answer to everything.
“You still haven’t told me what all this is,” he says quietly, his voice deep and making me even wetter.
“All what?” I ask, confused and wondering if you can drown in someone’s eyes. He takes the forgotten spatula out of my hand and pulls back to wave it at me. I watch the movement for a moment, not understanding for a second. Then it hits me. “Oh! I’m fixing breakfast.”
“It smells good,” he says and sadly, he steps away from me. I resist letting a sigh out and turn back to the stove after commandeering my spatula again.
“It’s stuffed French toast with strawberries. Though I’m not sure how good it will be. I usually use fresh strawberries, but you didn’t have those so I improvised with strawberry jam.”
“Not many strawberries to be found around here this time of year,” he agrees. He sits down at the table and I bring him his plate. He’s already grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. I don’t need it, but because he’s a man and men seem to like that kind of thing, I’ve also fried him some bacon, so I put that in front of him too. He studies it all so intently that it makes me nervous. I go back to make my own toast, needing a break.