Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
He slipped a hand beneath her shirt, his thumb flicking teasingly over the clasp of her bra before moving to her waist, his fingers pressing hot into her skin.
Kate’s nails dug into his shoulders, and his fingers tightened in response before sliding to her hips and holding her still. For several delicious minutes, he did nothing but kiss her—long, drugging kisses that left her helpless with want.
When she thought she couldn’t take any more, she broke the kiss on a gasp. “I need to catch my breath.”
“Later,” he said, his mouth moving to her throat as he maneuvered her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside.
He bit her bare shoulder, and she gasped.
“Still think I’m proper?” he ground out.
Before Kate could register what was happening, she was over his shoulder and being hauled out of the entryway. Not carried, Gone with the Wind style. Hauled, Neanderthal style. It was single-handedly the most erotic moment of her life.
Or maybe not.
Because then she was on her back in the center of his bed. Kennedy Dawson’s bed. Something she’d fantasized about more times than she cared to admit, even to herself.
But before she had time to register that it was finally happening, that his bedding was as pristine and wrinkle-free as she’d thought, though crisp hotel white and not the dark gray she’d imagined, he was pulling his shirt over his head, kicking off his shoes, and watching her like a man about to devour his prey.
That was the most erotic moment of her life.
Kate started to scoot higher on the bed, but Kennedy caught her ankle and dragged her toward him. She let out a little laugh, which quickly descended to a moan as he leaned over her, his lips skimming along the slight swell of her breast above her bra.
Hooking a single finger into the fabric, he tugged it down just enough to expose her nipple to the cool air of the bedroom, followed immediately by the wet warmth of his tongue. His mouth fastened around her and sucked, his hands ripping away her bra and repeating the whole process with her other breast, until she was writhing and begging for more.
Kennedy lifted his head, his gaze finding hers as his hand went slowly to the waistband of her shorts. His eyes held her perfectly still as his fingers undid the button. Then he stilled.
Last chance.
Kate’s thighs moved apart ever so slightly in invitation, and his breathing quickened. She heard the rasp of a zipper. His. Then hers. Heard him groan her name as her underwear joined their shorts somewhere on the floor of his bedroom.
Heard her shout his name as his hand slid between her legs, finding her wet. Her eyes slammed shut as pleasure rolled through her, but Kennedy didn’t let her take the coward’s way out. His hand stilled, waiting until she met his gaze before he resumed moving his fingers again, exploring slowly at first, then surer as he watched her every expression, lingering longer when she cried out. He circled in the exact right spot, and her eyes closed again. His hand stilled. Waited.
Her eyes popped open, and she glared at him. “Damn you, Kennedy—”
He slid two fingers inside her without warning, and she bucked upward. This time when her eyes closed, he let her, his fingers sliding in and out of her body with perfect rhythm, his thumb finding the perfect spot once more . . .
She was so close, so ready—
Kate was just seconds away from release when he pulled his hand away. She was mollified slightly—only slightly—to see the way his hand fumbled at the drawer of the nightstand, the way his hands didn’t just open the condom wrapper but tore it.
This time when she scooted up the bed, he joined her there, levering his body over hers, settling his hips between her thighs, his cock nudging against her aching center.
“Yes,” she whispered. Her eyes started to close, but she caught herself. She was learning his ways.
He rewarded her by sliding his hand over her hip, hooking his arm beneath her thigh, until she was all of the way open to him.
He entered her with a thrust so hard she moved upward on the bed, her hand coming up to brace against the headboard as she cried out.
“Okay?” he growled, withdrawing slowly and holding still.
Kate couldn’t manage words, so she nodded. Okay? She was so much better than okay.
He thrust forward again, and Kate’s nails dug into his back.
More.
He gave her more. He gave her everything.
She’d been so wrong. There was nothing clinical or restrained about the way Kennedy Dawson took a woman to bed. It was raw, intense, and mind-blowing, and yet it wasn’t careless. Even as he drove into her again and again, he watched her face, cupped her head in one hand to keep from driving her too far up into the headboard.