Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
He walks out of the kitchen, but takes up a good lean against the entryway, his eyes slowly trailing over my body, which I suddenly am painfully aware probably looks like a hot mess.
I threw my hair in a bun, and the sweats and T-shirt combo I'd grabbed from my room were definitely not the outfit I would’ve chosen if I knew I'd find him in my kitchen. Still, he’s looking at me like I’m the dessert he needs after that big meal.
“A little eager are we, damsel?” he teases.
I open and close my mouth a few times, searching for the perfect quip that will put his painfully large ego in its place.
But I don't find one because he's not wrong.
“Can you blame me?” I ask, and his eyebrows raise as if that wasn't the answer he expected. “I've never experienced what I did last night at your hands. Naturally, I want another taste. Is that wrong?” I ask, my tone edging on the side of serious instead of playful.
Lawson shakes his head. “The only thing wrong about it is that you weren't properly taken care of before. Thank fuck you met me in the bar that night.”
I laugh softly, looking up at him as he makes his way over and stops before me where I sit in the chair. “Thank goodness you’re so gracious with your time and experience to enlighten me,” I say as sarcastically as I can. “Hero indeed.”
He smirks, bending down to where his mouth hovers just a breath above mine, making my pulse spike. “You're welcome,” he says. “Now, another demonstration of my graciousness, my darling,” he says in his most perfect imitation of the gentlemen we watched all night before on Bridgerton, and goddamn it makes me liquid.
Molten.
And before I can even dare to say something else, his mouth slants over mine, erasing all logical thought from my mind, and replacing it with nothing but pure primal sensation.
My hands fly to his bare chest, and I stand, needing to feel more of him against me.
His lips are hungry, his tongue parting mine and rubbing into my mouth, making me gasp as tendrils of heat spiral toward my core.
Damn, the guy is a good kisser. I didn't know kisses like this existed. The perfect combination of perceptive and consuming.
His powerful hands roam over my body, teasing my breasts over my shirt before working his way down to my hips, gripping them gently before he hooks his fingers into the band of my sweatpants.
He pulls away, just enough to gauge my reaction, and I shimmy my hips, helping him work them down my legs before stepping out of them and leaving myself bare before him.
“Fuck, damsel,” he growls at the sight. “No panties? You were ready for me, weren't you?”
I kiss him hard and quickly, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling back. “I didn't even know you were here,” I fire back.
He kisses me back with equal intensity before pulling away. “Doesn’t make a difference, now does it?”
I shake my head, then gather my shirt and pull it over my head, tossing it on the floor in a bold move that surprises even me. There’s nothing but bright light in this room. There’s nowhere for me to hide, no blankets to shimmy under. I’m completely naked before someone as perfectly gorgeous as Lawson Wolfe, and somehow, I feel like a goddess. It’s probably because of the way he’s looking at me…like he’s never wanted anyone more.
“Fuck,” he says, his eyes trailing the length of my body. “You’re so damn gorgeous.”
I draw closer to him, my peaked nipples just grazing his bare chest, and electricity shoots across my skin at the contact. He captures my mouth again, and my arms fly up around his neck, one hand tangling in his silky dark hair.
He tears away for a moment, reaching into his sweatpants pocket and retrieving something before he drops his pants, his cock springing free in all its glory.
My eyes snag on the foil packet in his hand, watching as he tears that open. “You grabbed one when you put on clothes? So cocky,” I tease.
He smirks down at me, rolling the condom over his hard dick. “It's always good to be prepared,” he says, his voice gravelly with desire.
His mouth is on mine again before I can respond, his hands on my hips as he perches me on to the table, and steps between my thighs.
The position is very much like that time in Clay's office, but this time, there’s nothing separating us.
A throb takes up residence between my thighs, and I arch against his body, breathless and achy, and when he draws back, I whimper.
“Almost,” he assures me before he drops to his knees, and I go entirely still. The position brings him eye level right where I'm aching for him, and a bolt of self-consciousness races through me. He must see it, because he gently smooths his hands over my thighs, and asks, “Is this all right?”