Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“I’ll call down later to wipe the security footage. I’m walking you to the damned door,” I grind out.
“There he is,” she says with a buttery laugh. “My 1950s gentleman again.”
“Fuck no. I just can’t keep my hands off you.”
I don’t allow an inch of space between us as we march through the private entrance and beeline for the elevator.
She pushes the button and it dings open a second later.
No wait this time, thank God.
I turn her around, so we’re facing the mirror at the back of the elevator.
“Look,” I say.
“What am I looking at? Is there something between my teeth?”
I smile at how adorably clueless she is.
This is why I have to help her see it.
“I need you to see how balls-on-fire sexy you are,” I whisper, my grip tightening around her waist. “Need you to understand why my girl has me so obsessed. Do you see it now?”
“You said it again,” she says, her eyes so bright green and her face so pink.
“What?”
“Called me yours.”
I nod briskly. “I’ll keep on saying it, Sunshine. There’s no goddamned way I’m ever sharing. Earlier, when that clown tried to kiss you—”
I don’t finish that thought.
Apollo Finch is not worth the brain power when I’m staring at the living fusion of every ancient sex goddess combined.
“I think you worry too much.” Her voice is barely audible.
“And I asked you a question earlier. You never answered me.”
She closes her eyes and exhales slowly.
Her eyelids flutter open, and she stares back into the reflection of my eyes.
“Brock...”
I cup her chin with my hand and gently hold it firmly. “Tell me you see her. Tell me that woman isn’t too beautiful for life.”
Just when I didn’t think she can’t feel hotter, she does.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “But with this fairy-tale dress and the male model beside her, any woman could be runway material.”
“Male model, huh? And just what would I be modeling?”
She smiles. The rosy hue on her face sharpens to deep crimson.
Enough flattery.
I shift so we’re facing each other again, moving my hand from her chin to her cheek. Leaning down, I kiss her with the total reverence she deserves.
Fuck, if she still doesn’t understand that she’s meant to be savored—worshipped—she will by dawn.
She welcomes the invasion, matching my pressure with her own intensity, gasping against my tongue.
Goddamn.
I move my hand from her cheek so I can close my arms around her waist and draw her closer, pinning her to my body.
Any gap between us is too much.
My desire flares hotter by the second. My trousers strain to their breaking point.
Can she feel how hard I am?
How badly I need to fuck her to keep myself grounded?
The way her arms wind around my neck again and pull says yes.
She clings to me, this creature of pure passion, shifting one small hand from my neck to my shoulder.
Her palm glides down my chest, my stomach, and stops on my lower abs, lingering just above my beltline.
Every breath feels torn.
“Pippa, fuck,” I rasp. “You murder me.”
“Brock,” she whispers, struggling for her breath just as much as me.
This is new.
Intense.
Scary.
With all the women I’ve ever been with, I’ve never been unraveled by the slightest touch.
The hand resting on my abs slowly slides back up to my shoulder and dives underneath my jacket. Her free arm releases my neck.
Then her fingers move to the other side of my jacket.
She starts to lower it down my back, staring at me like she’s daring me to tell her no.
Sunshine, you’ve watched one too many old black-and-white movies, I think. This is happening. I’m not half the gentleman you think I am.
I shrug out of the jacket and drape it over her shoulders. I use it to urge her in tighter before I lean down and take her mouth again.
My tongue works deeper now, thieving another moan from her lungs.
Growling, I reach down, helping curl her leg around mine as her delicate fingers go to my tie, fighting to loosen it.
There’s a whooshing of metal doors closing.
Shit.
I didn’t even notice the elevator had already stopped on our floor, the doors hanging open so long they’re closing again.
With a dissatisfied grunt, I tap the button to open it again and break away from her, fishing the keycard to my room from my pocket.
“Let’s go,” I say.
But she pulls back with her hand still in mine as we step off the elevator, grazing her lower lip again.
“So presumptuous. Do I have a choice?”
“Not when you kiss me like that. Also, we both know your pussy will hate you for life if you back out now,” I challenge.
She gives me another smile that’s all emerald-eyed seduction.
How the fuck can a smile be erotic?
I decide I don’t care when my lips land on hers again, our tongues swirling like mad.
“Brock, I—I have concerns...” she whispers as she pulls away.