Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
The first sip warms my throat and chest, and I close my eyes, inhaling it slowly.
And I realize something right then.
The airiness, the light, willowy feeling whirling in my stomach, in my head and mind… it’s peace.
For the first time in a very long time, I’m not eager to jump straight onto my laptop or rush to work. I don’t need to busy my mind to keep it from roaming into painful territory. The ‘what if’ territory.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
I don’t want to move from this spot. I want to stay in bed all day with hot coffee and room service.
And it seems I’m not the only one, as moments later, Roman steps inside, his sweats hanging low on his hips, chest bare and carved to perfection, with two large trays in his hands.
He smiles, goes to say something, but then his eyes snap to my naked chest. He groans, muscles rippling with the noise.
“Down boy.”
“Oh, my boy is on his way up. Look at him.” He glances down, and sure enough, his cock is fighting against the thick cotton.
I laugh, taking another sip, and he squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head.
“Okay, I can’t believe I’m about to say this.” He sets the trays down at the foot of the bed, quickly pulling a T-shirt from his suitcase and tugging it over my head. “But I need to feed you before I fuck you, so behave and let me.”
My skin flushes in need, but also from his reaction to me, his words.
His desire.
I do as he asks, calling on patience I don’t feel and wait for the food to arrive before attacking him. And in return, he does as he says, flipping me onto my stomach, his body blanketing mine from behind.
And with a slight nudge of my knee, he slides inside me in one slow, long thrust.
My chin lifts, neck stretching, and he already knows what to do, his hand coming around and latching on with just enough force to create a block in my airway, forcing me to gasp into the air around us.
He fucks me slow, raw, and to utter perfection.
“I was made to fill you up, Kitten. To scrape your walls and coat you in my cum.” His hips jerk harder then, my body bounding forward from the impact, but his grip on my neck holds me in place.
I bite my lip, pressing into his, arching my back higher, and he sings his praise into my ear.
“There you go. Just like a sweet little kitty. Tell me how good I stretch your pussy.”
“More.”
He growls, releasing my throat and pressing against my upper back until my shoulders fall flat to the mattress, ass high in the air.
He’s ruthless in his pounding, heady growls ripping through the air, my moans sharp and cut short as each stab of his cock within me slams against my G-spot, drawing out another.
I start to shake, sweat slick across my skin, and he pulls out, flips me on my back, and slides back in, in seconds.
He grips my chin, holding still until my eyes peel open to lock on to his.
And then his rocks slow, a delectable form of suffering.
I’m so wet, the sounds our bodies make is pure smutty, naughty, and addictive, but the dance between is the complete opposite this time.
His next words are proof of such.
“I love you, Noel. Then, now. Always.”
“I love you, too.”
“Time to come now.” His lips capture mine, and when he lifts my hips the slightest bit, we both find our finale.
And then we take our time reaching a second, at some point landing ourselves in under the warm spray of the shower.
By the time we make it out of our long, steamy shower, it’s midafternoon.
We move into the small living room area of the suite, where we do exactly what Roman had promised.
We completely rewrite our memory, decorating the tree that was left bare and the cookies we dug into in the middle of the night when we needed to replenish.
We play board games and order hot cocoa from room service, but as dinner grows nearer, I find I don’t want to stay inside the room anymore.
I want to be out among our peers and other guests… together.
I want people to look at us and believe his lie.
That we are engaged and to be married, but then I remember what he said in front of the Rileys.
He called me his wife.
As crazy as it makes me sound when I fought the man with all I had up until last night—or maybe the night before—I want to be.
I’ve wanted to be for years.
Which is exactly why I push all thoughts from my mind and turn to the man beside me and wait for his eyes to meet mine.
“Marry me.”
His brows jump, and he smiles.