Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
My hips ram back up, the piercing scraping against her soft flesh and pulling tight. “Take it, baby.”
“More.”
That’s all I need for my control to snap. Over and over, she takes each brutal stroke, her gaze locked with mine.
She licks her lips, the glint in her eyes transforming into challenge as she rocks into me. The blaze grows between us, the sound of our bodies slapping together ringing in my ears. Her body quakes in my arms until she finally gives way, shouting my name so loud it bounces around the room.
Pleasure takes over and I drive into her twice more, sinking my teeth into her neck as I explode.
She rasps, clenching down and moaning again, coming apart as I pulse inside her. Her warm breath coats my skin, bringing me back to reality.
“I want to move.”
I take a step and she tenses.
“No, I don’t want to move.”
“Then don’t, I have you.”
She slants her head, her face glowing up at me. “That didn’t come out right. Dammit, Ford! You ruined me and my brain cells.”
“Babe, I fucked you hard against a wall in my bathroom. Take a minute.”
“That’s the problem. I was supposed to have the willpower to go through with my plan before we had sex. But I walked in here and found you all… hot, wet, and looking sexy, and my brain short-circuited. I have no self-discipline.”
“Not following you.”
“Look at the towel.”
I glance down at the floor and see nothing but a heap of material.
“It’s sea green,” she clarifies.
“Okay.”
“Can you handle sea green?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“No, it’s a question to a macho male badass who has white, black, and grey decorating all of his space. Can you handle color?” She says the last part slowly and deliberately like she’s holding back.
“The color sea green?”
“Yes!”
“It’s a fucking color. Who cares?”
“I had a two-bedroom, two-bathroom bungalow loaded with color and personality. Most of that is in storage. If I make the move to get it out of storage, can you handle the color?”
She’s bordering on fits when it hits me. “You want to add some personality to this space?”
“Not only this space. Is an entire house of color and decoration going to eradicate your masculinity?”
She says it so seriously, I fight back the urge to grin. “I’ll live.”
“Well, then maybe next weekend we can go to my storage and—”
“Tomorrow,” I cut her off briskly.
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is Saturday. No need to wait until next weekend.”
“But I work tomorrow.”
“Your mom and you packed your shit meticulously with labels. Tell me what you want and I’ll get it.”
“I haven’t spoken to Cruz and Alex yet.”
“I’ll handle that, too.”
“Ford, I’m living there. It should come from me.”
“Baby, you’re telling me you’re finally giving in. I’m not waiting another week.”
She casts a glance over my shoulder, nibbles on her lip, and gives a brief nod. “I’ll call them on the way to dinner.”
“Fine.”
“And I’m not giving in. It’s a strategic move in the next stages of our relationship.”
“You want to argue while my dick’s still in you?”
“You can’t possibly…”
I rock into her, my cock ready to go again. “Always, baby.”
Her lips part and I know I have her.
“We’re already late,” she tries.
“Don’t give a shit.”
I walk us to my bed, lying back and adjusting her on top. “Let’s talk about that self-discipline.”
“I have none, obviously.”
“Good, baby, because I’m learning that works to my advantage.”
She narrows her eyes, but before she can speak, I thrust up.
She moans, her hips gliding back and forth, and her gaze traveling over my torso appreciatively.
“Having no restraint definitely has its benefits.” Her nails skim over the ink on my chest. “But now that I have your attention.”
“Even if you weren’t sitting on my cock naked, you’d have my attention.”
“I was planning to discuss this at dinner, but now seems as good a time as any.”
A nagging stirs in my gut, warning signals sounding at the apprehension in her tone.
“Moving in means contributing financially.”
The nagging immediately turns to irritation. In a beat, she’s on her back and I’m looming over her. “Not fucking happening.”
“Ford, it’s only right. You just got rid of one freeloader—”
“Do not finish that sentence. Wipe that shit from your head. I can’t believe I even need to explain to you the difference.”
She jerks back at my bitterness. “I know the difference.”
“When we moved in, a lot of my parents’ stuff went to storage so we could do what we wanted. Specifically, in the bedrooms. For years, none of us had much because we didn’t need it. I bought what I needed. Bed, dresser, nightstands, sheets, pillows, towels—basic shit. You want to put your stamp on every inch of this place, go for it. But you even mention giving me money again, and I’ll lose my ever-fucking mind.”
“I was trying to be respectful!”
“Never again,” I grind out.
The fire flaming in her eyes ignites the possessive beast inside. “Had a shit week, but one look at you made it all disappear. Now you gotta get me back to that place after pissing me off.”