Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I won’t mark her visibly, but like I offered her, I’m going to write my name on her skin with my tongue, my breath, my attention. She melts into me, her head falling forward until she meets my eyes again. Hers are hazy and lust-filled. I imagine mine are the same.
She kisses me this time, pouring herself into me while her hands cup my jaw. She nips my bottom lip, pulling it with a sassy smile that makes me even harder. She’s fucking gorgeous. How does this whole fucking town—no, the whole fucking world—not know that she’s the most beautiful woman to exist?
Fuck, I don’t want them to know. I want it to be my little secret. I want to be the only man who knows what Hope looks like when she gives in to herself, surrendering to her desires and flying freely. This new confidence filling her is private, meant only for us, and like a greedy asshole, I want it all for myself.
She explores me, eventually working her way back to my neck. I groan at the feeling of her little teeth gently biting down, encouraging her. “Fuuuck, Hope.” I knead her ass, hoping small, pink circles of my fingerprints will be there—a hidden mark just for us so she doesn’t think this was a dream.
One of her hands is in my hair, the other on my chest like she’s holding me in place as her hips shift, grinding us together. She’s driving me fucking crazy, and all I can do is let her because if I release even the slightest bit of grip on my nearly shredded restraint, I’m going to rip our clothes out of the way and fill her the way we both want. I bet she’d feel like liquid velvet wrapped around me.
She sucks at the tender flesh over my pulse gently at first, and then harder, interspersing with nibbles and kisses. I don’t know if there will be a physical mark anyone else can see, but I will know it’s there. More importantly, she will know.
Her mouth returns to mine, and like we can both sense we’re reaching a point of no return, the kiss is sensual, gradually going softer and less insistent. “Ben . . . ,” she says quietly, her forehead pressed to mine. She’s warning me off, testing to see if I’m going to hold true to my word.
“I know.” Cupping her cheek, I whisper in her ear, “You are amazing, Hope Barlowe.”
When I release her, meeting her eyes once more, her smile is slow, like she’s surprised at my reaction and not sure it’s authentic. “Yeah?” she asks.
“Chaos in a bottle, going wild beneath the lights. Prettiest train wreck I’ve ever seen, covered in your glittery midnight,” I recite reverently, tracing my fingertip over her thigh. Even through jeans, the feeling of her body beneath my touch is addictive.
I don’t know why I do it. I don’t share lyrics with anyone but Sean, but I want her to hear what I was writing today. I’ve nearly got the song finished, and I think we can get away with calling it “Hope” since it’s a word, as well as a name.
“That’s beautiful. Is it . . . about me?”
She has no idea. As if it could be about anyone else.
Chapter 13
HOPE
“You sure about this?” Ben asks. “I can drop you off if you’d rather.”
“No,” I say too quickly. He lifts his brows questioningly, probably thinking I’ve gone crazy again. After all, we’re going to my parents’ house, a place where I’ve sworn I live, feel safe, and have no worries about.
Normally, that’d all be true. But they’ve been blowing up my phone since this morning, and when I finally answered, Joy brusquely informed me there’s a family meeting today, and my presence is mandatory.
Apparently, her reassurances that I’m okay and safe have worn paper thin and my parents want answers. Now.
A few days ago, I didn’t have any. I still don’t have all the answers, but I think I can explain myself enough to satisfy them that I haven’t lost my mind completely.
“I want you there, if that’s okay? You might be my emotional-support human at this point,” I tease, picking up his hand from the gear shift and holding it to my heart dramatically. But strangely, it’s true. “We could get you a high-vis vest with a little patch on the chest. Maybe a collar too?”
He chuckles. “That sounds kinkier than you’re implying, but I’m down for it if you are. I’ve definitely never been called anyone’s emotional support, though. And nobody’s ever wanted me to meet their parents. Usually quite the opposite, if I’m honest.” He sounds nervous but is still cracking dry jokes for my benefit. There’s no need for him to worry. My parents are great, and I know they’ll love Ben because they love everyone.