Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
When my palms slide toward the necklace, his larger hands settle over them, drawing them upward until they’re tangled around his neck and my body is flush against his.
Our gazes stay fastened.
I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.
“We shouldn’t do this,” I whisper, trying one last time to stop this from happening.
Even to my own ears, the protest is weak.
“Do you love him?”
“Of course.” The truthful response is out of my mouth before I can think better of it.
Fury flashes in his eyes as his voice dips, sounding as if it’s been roughed up by sandpaper.
“I’ve never been one to fuck other dudes’ girlfriends.” Just as relief rushes from my lungs, he tacks on, “But I’m going to make an exception in this case.”
I don’t realize that he’s walked us toward the bed until the backs of my thighs hit the edge of the mattress and I tumble onto it. My brain spins out of control as he follows me down, his larger body caging me in.
“Tell me you don’t want this to happen.”
My tongue darts out to moisten my lips.
One word has the power to stop this in its tracks.
Except, when I open my mouth, not a single sound escapes.
I’m slammed with the realization that I can’t give him a response.
Because when it comes down to it, I want this.
I want Maverick to run his hands and lips over me like he did the night we spent together. More than anything, I want him to make my body come alive so I can forget the reason this can never be more than a few stolen hours.
When I remain silent, satisfaction dances in his eyes right before his lips crash onto mine.
20
Maverick
How is it possible that her mouth tastes just as sweet as I remember?
Actually, that’s a lie.
It somehow tastes even sweeter.
I was really hoping that it wouldn’t.
That I’d overembellished it in my memories.
What I want most of all is to fuck this girl out of my system once and for all so I stop thinking about her every waking second of the day. Along with the not-so-waking ones.
I don’t want to catch glimpses of her around every corner on campus. Or smell her delicate floral scent when I step into my room.
I want to banish her from my thoughts and memories.
She shouldn’t mean a damn thing to me. And yet, the harder I try to convince myself of that, the more I realize just how much of a lie it is and the tightly clenched jaws it has me in.
At some point, I need to face facts.
Because the scary truth—the one I’ve tried desperately to pretend doesn’t exist—is that I’m obsessed with this girl.
And I still don’t know what her name is.
The other thing I’m aware of?
That she belongs to River fucking Thompson.
Even the thought of him touching her the way I do, making her scream out her orgasm, makes me want to lose my shit.
Those thoughts are all it takes for my kiss to turn harsh and demanding. Maybe what I’m really trying to do is punish her for sneaking into my thoughts and setting up residence.
I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anything I can do to evict her from my brain.
Or wipe her from my memories.
My tongue tangles with hers as our teeth scrape. If I’d thought she would shrink away from my silent demands, that doesn’t happen. When a throaty moan tries to escape from her, I swallow it down, taking it deep inside me where it’ll never see the light of day.
Somewhere in the back of my brain, I realize that I’m being too rough, but I can’t seem to help myself.
When I grow lightheaded from lack of oxygen, I pull away with a growl and nip the point of her chin. Instead of pushing me away, she surprises me by bearing the delicate flesh of her throat in silent offering. I didn’t think there was anything that could soothe the beast fighting to break free and escape its confines, but that does the trick.
I suck a deep breath into my lungs in order to calm the chaos that rages beneath my skin. Any moment, I’ll burst from it. My touch gentles as I slide down the slender column, kissing and licking my way to the zipper of her jacket.
Fuck.
I didn’t realize she was still wearing it.
All of this needs to go.
Now.
I rear back, attacking the layers of clothing that keep her hidden away from me.
Once she’s divested of the jacket, I drag her sweater up her torso and over her head before tossing it to the carpet.
My gaze drops to her breasts. The lacy material does nothing to shield them from view. Or maybe the point is to showcase way more than it conceals.
As much as I love it, I fucking hate the idea of her wearing the pretty little garment for anyone other than me.