Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 202770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1014(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 676(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 202770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1014(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 676(@300wpm)
She’s just as impatient as I am, tugging at my T-shirt, and when it’s gone, my waistband.
Fuck yes, is all I can say.
I’m back to kissing her as senseless as the taste of her makes me, and I don’t even care. Possessiveness swells inside me, and I cup her perfect little ass, that is now naked, thanks to a few quick moves, and mold her to me. “Mine,” I say, my cheek to her cheek, my lips to her ear. “You’re mine now. Say it.”
“Are you mine, Jax?”
The question burns with insecurity that I reject from her, jerking back to catch her face in my hand and tilt her gaze to mine. “Yes, Emma. I am yours. You are mine. Say it.”
“What happened to the man who didn’t even stay the night? He fucked and ran?”
“You happened, Emma. Just like the song, you hit me like a hurricane. Say it. I am yours and you are—”
“Yours, Jax. And the most amazing thing about you and me is that I’m more afraid of being without you than I am being with you.” Those words and the emotion trembling in her voice when she says them, speak of the hell that York Waters and her father made her life.
If her father was alive, I’d kill him. York should be glad he’s in jail. “Emma—”
She pushes to her toes and brings her lips to mine. “Don’t you dare turn this into anything but us right now. And don’t you dare make me some damsel in distress. I did just fine without you. I just don’t want to be without you. Now, how about you kiss me again already?”
“There’s my hurricane,” I murmur, and then I do just what she asked. I kiss her again, and I kiss her with the force of the heavens above, kiss her with the force of a man who’d dive into the deepest of shark-infested seas for her, and come back alive just because she was waiting for me. Even though she’s right, she could handle those sharks just fine all by herself.
I pick her up and carry her to the bed, folding her close. “I’m going to kiss every part of you until you beg me to stop, Emma. And then I’m going to do it again.”
“We have a dinner date,” she says, curling her fingers on my chin. “Maybe you should just fuck me and then kiss me later?”
“Oh no, baby. That’s not how this happens.” I roll her to her back and nestle down low between her legs, my shoulders spreading her thighs wide. My lips caressing her belly, her body trembling with the kiss I place there. My fingers slide into the wet heat of her sex; she pants out a breath, and I lick her clit pinning her with a stare. “What were you saying about dinner?”
“I’m pretty sure I said we can be late.”
I laugh, a low, deep rumble, lowering my mouth as I do, the vibration sliding along her sex. A soft little purr of a sound escapes her lips, and I close my mouth down on her, suckling her deep. She rewards me with a low moan, and when I press two fingers inside her, she squirms beneath my mouth and grips the sheet, her sex dripping around my fingers. Yeah, baby, I think. This is where I want you. This is what you deserve. To be lost in pleasure. I want her to forget all of the damage that made her fear trusting and needing anyone before me.
I lick, tease, and stroke her sex, fingers pumping with her hips. My other hand caresses her belly, her breast, her leg. Soon, too soon, considering how much I want to keep her right here, just like this, she quakes beneath my tongue. Her sex spasming around my fingers, her body jerking with the force of her release. When I’m naked and holding her, pressing inside her, I do so with a vow I don’t keep to myself. “Taste you on my lips, baby, because I’m going fuck you so many right ways, every day of your life, Emma, that you forget everything but me.”
“I already have,” she whispers, but we both know that’s not true, which is why my answer is my lips on her lips, the salty-sweet taste of her release exploding between us, our bodies arching together. Her sweet floral scent teasing my nostrils, her silky hair twined in my fingers. Our dance is slow then fast. The burn in our bodies a simmer that becomes fire until we collapse together and Emma falls asleep in my arms.
Still feeling the effects of the drugs.
A flash of that mask and syringe Savage showed me in the photo flashes in my mind. It’s all I can do not to launch myself out of the bed in fight mode. Emma doesn’t need me to punch someone, though the fighter in me would really like to do just that. She needs me to go to this damn dinner with her brother.