Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Then, slowly, like a predator creeping in on its prey, he rounded the kitchen island until he was standing just inches from where I sat.
He gazed down at me, the heat of him radiating off his skin in waves that made chills sweep across my arms.
“Will?”
His jaw flexed at the sound of his name, and he took another step, slipping into the space between my legs as his hands reached for me. They slid along my jaw, over my cheeks, until his fingers were in my hair and cupping my neck and tilting my chin.
My eyelids fluttered at the feel of him, at the overwhelming waves of electricity that coursed through those hands and into my soul.
His throat constricted, eyes searching mine, thumbs gliding along the line of my jaw.
He tilted my chin more, until my neck was arched, my eyelids heavy as I watched him bend. His dark eyes were locked on mine, never faltering, his hands strong and steady where they held me in place.
Will pressed his forehead to mine, inhaling a long, slow breath and letting his eyes shut at the contact. It was as if he were breathing me in, memorizing me with his hands as his fingers curled in my hair.
He swallowed, jaw muscles popping, nose flaring like he was battling a war I couldn’t see.
And then he lowered his mouth to mine.
And he kissed me.
Shock zipped up my spine, replaced quickly by a longing so deep and intense that it hummed in every inch of my veins. I sucked in a breath at the same time Will did, like we were resurfacing after being under water for years.
Oh my God.
He’s kissing me.
He’s kissing me.
His lips were warm and firm against mine, his hands holding me to him. My heart seemed to float away on a cloud the longer we were connected, and when he peppered that kiss only to start a new one, it soared to another universe.
I’d had this man in so many ways. I’d had him on his knees for me, been on my knees for him. I’d had him inside me. He’d had me twisted up in dozens of positions. I’d had him in beds and in baths and against kitchen counters.
But none of it compared to how it felt to have his mouth take mine.
Slow and intentional, sweet and needy. His soft lips met mine time and time again, exploring, discovering. The first time I parted my mouth and his tongue swept inside to taste mine, I moaned, a shock of pleasure ripping through me.
I pressed up out of the barstool and into his touch, into the kiss, my body igniting at the low groan in his throat when I did. One hand stayed firmly in my hair, his thumb still caressing my jaw, as the other snaked around my waist and pulled me into him. He couldn’t get me close enough. He wanted more when there was nothing more to take.
And yet I wanted the same, like if I could strip my entire self and bestow it at his feet — I would.
“Will,” I breathed against his lips, his name a question and an invocation.
“Fuck the rules,” was all he answered, and then we were moving.
Blindly, we bounced down the hallway, me stepping on his feet as he dragged me along without wanting to break the kiss. When we’d hit a wall, he’d press me into it, dragging that kiss along my jaw and down my neck before he’d claim my mouth again.
Each time he did, we both moaned together, the next kiss always sweeter than the last.
He was everywhere, his hands on my body, thigh pressing between mine, hips caging, chest breathing hard in time with my own. I ceased to exist outside of his touch.
It was all consuming, a fiery surrender and a shock of light against a dark sky.
I knew we were in his room only by the way his scent invaded me. It was his body wash and leather and rope and that particular smell that was just him. The scent completely enveloped me when I was laid down in his sheets, and my heart ricocheted in my chest.
He’d never fucked me here before.
The only time I’d been inside this room was for a shower after our first lesson, and even that had been brief.
There was nothing rushed about this.
Will took his time, like time was all we had, slowly peeling our clothes off one article at a time. My dress, slipped over my head and left in a puddle on the floor. His shirt, pulled over his head with one hand behind his neck. My bra, unclasped and shoved aside. His shorts, button unfastened, zipper tugged down, fabric ripped to his ankles before he was descending on me again.
He punctuated each new loss of clothing with a parade of kisses along the newly exposed skin until we were both bare and trembling, holding onto each other in the darkness of that room as if it were our first time.