Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
My husband. Carson Crowley.
Which makes me—
Ashlyn Crowley.
It happened so fast. One second, I’m contemplating all the ways I can get out of this horrible situation, and the next—
I’m married.
Officially. On paper.
“Wife,” Carson says.
I’m standing alone under the decorative archway. It’s white with vines growing up its length. Little pink flowers flutter in the wind.
It’d be pretty, if this also didn’t feel like my own funeral.
“Carson,” I reply.
“Husband,” he corrects, grinning viciously. Advancing on me. Now that the paperwork is over, he seems calmer, which does nothing to soften his edge.
“I want my contract still,” I say, backing up, hands raised.
“You’ll get it. I’ve never let you down before. I never will.”
I grunt, not sure what the hell that means. But before I can consider it, I bump up against a tree.
He’s on me then. Carson steps forward, crushing the distance between us, pressing his body into mine. I whimper, half in shock, half in desire. We’re lost in the thickets, in the shade of the tree, blocked from the house by a smattering of bushes. His fingers press against my throat as fear lances into me, fear mingled with that insane attraction again.
My brain must be melted and dotted with holes if this beast makes me this aroused.
“You are my angel,” he whispers, lips finding my neck. He kisses hard. I groan. “And I am yours.”
“Angel?” I croak. “You’re my—what?” My brain’s all fizzy from lust at his mouth moves closer, closer, finally finishing what we started earlier.
Something about what he just said doesn’t sit right.
Something feels off.
But before I can think, he crushes his lips to my mouth, and kisses me.
Chapter 18
Carson
For me, this is everything.
I’ve denied myself this so many times. There were nights, dark nights, when all I wanted was to break down her door, storm inside, ravage her the way I’ve always needed. There were dark nights when I dreamed I followed her only to catch a whiff of her smell in the gap between aisles, where I’d wake up drenched in sweat breathing hard with the memory of the dream still torturing my mind. Dark nights when I’d close my eyes, picture killing her brother, strangling her father, murdering her entire family, just to drive her into my arms.
Dark thoughts that I’ve resisted.
Bad ideas that I’ve denied myself.
I’ve fantasized, obsessed, burned through mornings and evenings with my eyes closed picturing what it would be like to taste this girl.
My life has been one long test of my self-control.
A test that I’ve passed, again and again.
And now, after so much need, after so much pining, after so many lost hours, she’s here, she’s mine.
She’s my wife.
I kiss her and it’s the culmination of a decade. I kiss her, taste her, drink her in and, god, it’s so much better than I ever dreamed it could be. Her tongue is silken, minty, lemony, lovely. Her lips are plush and made for mine. Every little moan, every motion, every whimper, it only drives me further into frenzy.
I can’t hold myself back anymore.
Control, it’s always been control. I’ve been an ascetic, a monk, meditating on my need but never crossing that line into actually taking it.
Until Iain sparked a crisis.
And now?
Now I can’t stop myself.
Now I’m no longer a man—I’m her beast.
Her angel.
I kiss her throat as my hands move up her body, pushing her top above her breasts. I groan at the sight of her lovely, soft skin. I kiss the top of her chest, pull up her bra, lick her nipples and suck them hard, making her gasp, her back arching against me.
She’s grinding, moaning, gyrating.
“Perfect,” I whisper, praising. “Lovely girl. God, Ash, you are so much more than I ever could’ve dreamed. Look at these little pink nipples. Look at how hard they are for me. Listen to your moans. You still despise me right now, don’t you? And yet you can’t help yourself. That’s what I love about you the most. This skin, those lips, fuck, I think I’ve lost my mind and found myself in heaven. I always believed I’d end up burning for what I’ve done, but I’d gladly accept that hell if it means spending one brief but perfect life with you.”
“Carson,” she moans when I drop down to my knees. In supplication to her beauty. In prayer to her perfection. I unbutton her jeans, a holy act of devotion. “Carson,” she gasps as I pull them down. Enraptured, Blissful.
Each new inch of skin is a revelation. It’s a new truth about my life and the world. All this flesh, all this lovely sex, and it’s all mine.
She’s in black panties, shivering.
I kiss her inner thigh, suck her, lick her, tasting the salt of her sweat and smelling the sweet, lovely musk of her pussy as I get closer and closer. Fuck, she’s dripping, glistening in the afternoon light. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard before in my life.