Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Clinging to the length of him tucked inside, laying flat against his inner thigh.
Sterling Wade is perfect. Raw.
Beautiful.
Mine for the taking.
The reality of that is still so odd to me that I find myself licking my lips like a bad pantomime, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear before remembering myself.
I am ogling him like a desperate fool.
Like a groupie—yet not a single soul on earth would blame me, or deprive me of this moment.
I will never get it back or forget it.
One of his knees bends, hitting the bed, hands braced on the mattress. Leaning forward, his broad, golden shoulders flex attractively. I don’t know whether it’s an invitation to gawk at him some more, but I do, unable to peel my eyes away from his incredible body.
Every inch of him is well defined. Flawless.
Every inch carved of warm, firm flesh, smooth all over. Hair tousled from having just whipped off his shirt, it sticks out in ten different directions, waiting for my hands to run through it—so we can both get the chills.
Hot skin. Trembling hands.
I fold back the covers of his dark sheets before my legs give out, wobbly, easing onto the right side of the bed, heart rate fast, as if I’ve just sprinted a mile.
Rowdy slides in after me, leaving the light on, large body taking up more than half the mattress as he folds both arms behind his head. Turns to study me, wordlessly.
I war with myself.
I wanna do more things to this boy than I’ve wanted to do to any one human in my entire life. Which is why I’m a virgin who always settled for gif porn and the occasional solo masturbatory mission.
I bite my lower lip. God is rewarding me for my patience.
Am I going to sleep with him this weekend?
Yes.
No.
Yes!
I want to, more so now than ever, and we’re going to be alone for two whole nights. There will never be a more perfect opportunity, just him and the ocean—two things I can’t stop thinking about.
And he loves me.
“Are you excited about tomorrow?” I break the silence.
“Yeah, totally. Are you?”
“I am so excited I don’t know how I’ll be able to sleep.” All this excitement and these feelings are information overload; I’m not sure yet what to do with it all.
Rowdy hums his agreement, chest vibrating. Nonchalant and carefree, face impassive. If I hadn’t overheard him just now, I never would have known—never in a million years.
But I know better.
The lamp’s light radiates softly on the bedside table, casting a warm glow on his expression.
“You tired?” I ask, rolling toward him, burrowing my petite frame in the crook of his arm, lining myself up, breasts pressing into his ribcage. My hand slides unhurried across his expansive chest, landing on his left pec, the tip of my index finger wandering close to his hard nipple.
“Do I look tired?” Beneath my palm, his heart beats like a war drum—and when I lay my head on his chest, I can hear it, too.
I press closer, lifting my leg, draping it over his thick thigh, and god does it feel good to be this close.
Rowdy Wade is hot and cool to the touch.
His long arm comes around me, hand resting on my ass, splayed palm creeping under my sleep shorts to cup my bare butt cheek. Fingers flex close to my crack, forefinger twitching.
I swear we both stop breathing.
“What time are we getting up?”
“I set my phone for eight.”
“We should probably try to sleep, huh?”
The tip of his index finger treads a slow path up and down the flesh of my ass, plucking at my underwear band, branding my skin. “We should.”
He breathes in; he breathes out.
In.
Out.
Like he’s trying to control his breathing, impossible with my hand exploring his chest. Plucking gently at his puckered nipple and breathing hotly onto the other one.
It’s so close to my mouth—right there—stiff and straining.
I arch into him, pressing, tongue catching the tip of it. Roll my body closer until I can suck it. Flick it then blow, as I’ve seen in a hundred porn gifs.
Rowdy’s hand creeps under the back of my shirt, caressing his new favorite spot: my spine. Tenderly while I tease him, he’s so unbelievably sexy. So incredibly magnificent.
I want to touch him all over. “You want me to rub your back?”
His eyes are heavy-lidded, mouth in a straight line, expression impossible to read.
“I’d love for you to rub whatever you want.”
I suppress an eye roll. “On your side.”
He complies, facing the door, presenting me with the steel fortress of his back. He’s a massive wall of strength, and when my palms hit the flat plane of his trapezius, my fingers spread wide, kneading at the base of his neck.
It’s solid and thick. Tight.
I rub there, in that same spot, for a good five minutes, thumbs pressing into his skin. Pushing into the knots, listening as I burnish each one out. One by one.