Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Oh, sweet Jesus, it’s utterly divine. It’s like he’s reading my mind, stroking me just there, with just the right amount of pressure, as if he knows what I need him to do—oh, God.
“Yes,” I whisper, rocking my hips to welcome his touch. “Oh God. Ohhhh,” my voice is choked and my breathing hitched, with one more touch I’m going to fly headfirst into the abyss.
He removes his fingers for a moment, and my breath freezes when he teases his finger along the inside of my thigh. “So perfect,” he says as if in admiration. “Fiona. You’re so beautiful.”
I bask in his words, his nearness and my vulnerability, even though I’m crazy with need and craving his touch again. He bends, and I feel his lips brush my skin where the t-shirt’s fallen to the side. To my shock, I feel his tongue next, warm and sensual. He drags it along my lower back as if savoring the taste of me, just before his fingers return to where I ache for him.
With the first stroke, I fly apart. My head arches and my breathing’s choked and strained. Spasms of ecstasy rope through my body, and I swear every nerve ending from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair alights. He knows just how to continue stroking me, just what I need to ride the bliss, and he gives it all to me until every morsel of pleasure’s extracted. I’m panting, still holding onto the bed, when he turns me around and cradles me in his arms.
I can’t believe this is him, that he’s here in the flesh. That he’s holding me to his chest, kissing me as if he’s paying homage, across my cheeks, to my nose, and finally, finally, to my mouth, where I long to taste him.
I sigh and lose myself to his kiss. For such a strong, stern man his lips are so soft, his touch so gentle. I’ve kissed boys before, but not many, and certainly none knew how to make it enjoyable. This is something else altogether.
This is a silent declaration that we don’t care what will happen. We’re meant to be together. This is a silent joining of our wills, our fears, and our hopes.
This is confirmation that Lachlan McCarthy belongs to me as much as I to him. We kiss until I can’t breathe, until I’m fully submerged in this connection, and the rapid beating of my heart slows.
When he pulls away, he smiles at me in that sexy way of his, a corner of his lips quirking while his eyes focus on mine with intensity so fierce, I can’t look away.
“You taste better than I imagined,” he whispers. He brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes, cups the back of my head, and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes against the rush of emotions, and to my utter horror, I feel hot tears splash my cheeks.
I try to turn away so he doesn’t see. It’s important to me that I appear strong and in control in front of him.
But with his hold on the back of my head, I can’t look away.
“Fiona, why are you turning away from me?”
I sniff and try to look away, but there’s no escaping.
“I don’t want you to see me cry again,” I whisper.
His hand travels to my jaw, and he lifts my face gently so I’m looking straight at him.
“Why?” he whispers back.
“I don’t want you to think I’m sad.”
He studies my face with stern concern for a moment. “Then why do you cry?”
A lump forms in my throat again. I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t. His eyes go to my parted lips, and with a groan, he brushes his lips to mine again. I taste my salty tears.
“Come here,” he whispers when he pulls away again, holding me to his chest. “I imagine it’s overwhelming, isn’t it? I spanked you. I made you climax.”
I nod against his chest.
And I’ve wanted you so long.
“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I think I was so relieved at finding you that I didn’t hold myself back like I should.”
“Oh, God, Lachlan,” I say, my tears drying up. I look back up at him and frown at him. “No. Don’t you bloody do that to me again.”
He blinks, then he scowls, caught halfway between stern and confused. “Do what?”
I lean closer, capture his face between my hands, and speak so earnestly my voice cracks. “Hide yourself from me,” I whisper. “Leave me. Turn away.” I swallow hard and press on, determined to speak the truth even as it splits me wide open. “You wouldn’t have taken a private jet here if I didn’t mean something to you.”
“Mean something to me?” he says in a hoarse whisper. “You’re bloody everything to me.”