Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
I shiver, my fingers curling tighter into his shirt as his lips leave mine, trailing down my jaw.
"Then why did you wait?" I gasp, tipping my head back to offer him more access.
“Because,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin, “I knew the second I touched you like this, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
His grip on my hip tightens as his lips ghost over mine again. I lean into him, chasing him, but he pulls back just in time.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.
Like hell.
I tug him closer, dragging him down until my lips meet his with a desperation I can’t ignore. He groans against my mouth, something raw and almost tortured.
And then he takes over.
His hands skim down my sides before gripping my thighs, lifting me effortlessly as he pins me harder against the door. His hands slide lower, his fingers tightening around the curve of my ass as he hoists me up, effectively forcing my legs to wrap around his waist.
"Frederic -"
I can feel every inch of him, every hard, lean muscle pressing against me, and my breath stutters. My body is trapped between the solid wood of the door and the solid strength of him, and he knows it.
He feels it.
“Still want me to leave you alone?” he teases.
I narrow my eyes, trying - and failing - to hold onto any semblance of control.
“I still think you talk too much,” I tell him, my voice slightly hoarse.
He chuckles.
“Then maybe,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “you should do something about it.”
When his lips crash against mine again, it’s fiercer, more desperate, as though he’s proving a point all over again. I can’t find it in me to care all that much - not when there’s some depraved part of me that wants nothing more than to be unravelled by this man.
Frederic’s large hands tighten around me, fingers biting into my skin as he pushes off the door, carrying me further into the room like I weigh nothing at all.
Suddenly, my back meets something soft.
The plush cushions of a couch.
Before I can register the change of position, his forearms brace on either side of my head, blocking the rest of the world out.
His eyes trail over me, lingering on my chest as it rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths.
“Are you always this intense?” I ask.
“You have no idea.”
His fingers skim the hem of my dress, and I arch a brow as I pull my head slightly back, feigning nonchalance even as every nerve in my body sparks to life.
“Is this the part where you seduce me?”
He chuckles as his hand slides up my thigh, his palm warm against my bare skin.
“I don’t need to seduce you, mon ange,” he murmurs, tilting his head so that his lips graze the shell of my ear. “You were mine the second I saw you at that airport.”
My stomach flips violently at his possessive tone.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
I swallow. Hard.
“You’re wrong.”
His lips twitch.
“Liar.”
Before I can fire back, he kisses me again.
The kiss is hotter, deeper, as if he’s still trying to prove his point. I pull him closer, my hands fisting into his shirt as I drag him fully on top of me.
“You like this,” he murmurs, pulling his lips away so that he can trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck. “You like me.”
“You wish,” I counter, though the staggered rhythm of my breathing undermines my bravado.
“I do,” he agrees shamelessly, lifting his head so that those impossibly blue eyes lock onto mine. “But that’s not the point.”
I narrow my eyes. “So what is the point?”
“That you’re still here.”
One of his hands moves from where he’s bracing himself on the couch to my face. His fingers trail along my jaw before his thumb drags slowly over my bottom lip, pulling it down just enough to make my breath hitch.
He focuses intently as he brushes his thumb back up, nudging it between my lips.
But instead of letting him inside, I nip at it.
A sharp, teasing bite.
His resulting grin is wicked; a depraved flash of amusement mixed with something entirely unrestrained.
“Freddie,” I breathe, testing the nickname, and then his lips are on mine again.
Frederic Moreau kisses like I can already guess how he races - fast, intense, and all-consuming.
And right now, I think I just lost control of the wheel.
My silk dress slides up slightly as I shift beneath him, my legs parting to guide him closer. He settles between them without hesitation, and oh -
He’s hard.
A low, satisfied hum rumbles from his chest as he feels the way I arch up into him.
"Mon ange," he groans against my lips, his voice strained. "You keep pulling me in like you want something from me."
I slide my hands around his back and under his shirt, exploring the smooth expanse of skin.
"I don’t want anything from you," I reply.