Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“He was,” I say, and then we’re silent.
We keep staring into each other eyes as if we can’t stop, as if something magical and extremely not okay is happening here.
“I don’t want you to be in pain,” he says huskily.
He’s so close now that his warm breath tickles across my cheeks. I can smell the bodywash from where he must’ve showered after his workout. I can smell the leather clinging to him like it would survive a thousand showers: the oil and the bike metal.
“I feel better with you here,” I whisper, forcing the words past my nerves, not hesitating.
“I wish I could fix this for you,” he says, his voice getting deeper and more significant.
And in this moment,
We exist forever.
Before the kiss,
Everything is perfect.
But after…
The poetry composes itself in my head. There’s no way to end it or know what happens if I’m not hallucinating and he’s going to kiss me. If he crosses that line, I know I’ll have to stop him. I’ll have to remind him of Ryan, not that either of us should need reminding.
He touches me with his other hand. A pulse shimmers up my thigh, his palm warm against my knee through the fabric of my PJ bottoms. He’s got this torn look on his face like he’d get when reading me a story for the fifth time when he wanted to tell me no but couldn’t do it.
He should definitely say no now. Back away. Stop this before it gets out of hand.
Am I dreaming? Time moves in slow motion as he leans toward me, his mouth almost on mine, his eyes almost pained as they get bigger in my field of vision.
Soon, there’s only his eyes, the brilliant, intense green.
“Kay,” he says, almost desperately, as if begging me to make him stop.
“Kai,” I whisper, begging, sure… but not for him to stop.
His hand smooths higher up my leg. His lips are almost… No, not almost. His lips are on mine, hot and addicting right away. The grief falls aside, and there’s not even a flash of guilt, a surge of I should think about Dad.
There’s nothing but his taste, the texture. He groans as our mouths open and our tongues connect as if he’s as lost to this moment as I am. It’s as though he can’t stop, couldn’t stop, not for all the money in the world.
His hand moves farther and farther up my leg. He pushes my thigh aside, opening my legs. I moan as tickling and teasing sensations stroke over my sex, my belly getting warm, and my heart beating so fast.
I can’t think about anything else—not Dad, Ryan, the guilt, or the fallout. Just Kai. Just his deep, obsessed groan as he smooths his hand the rest of the way. I gasp, causing our teeth to click together, when he pushes down on my sex.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kai
“What are you doing, bro?” I imagine Ryan saying.
Then I have to push that imagined voice down deep and stifle it. Starve it. His little sister tastes too damn good. Her kissing is nervous at first, but then she makes the hottest moaning noise, her hands tentatively clinging onto my shoulders.
I can feel the heat of her pussy through the light fabric of her PJs. Hot and tempting and already getting wet for me. I rub slowly at first as we keep kissing. Our tongues find each other compulsively, hungry for the contact, her moans pushing me on. She moans so sweetly as she takes breaks from the kissing, as if she can’t get enough air to experience the pleasure fully.
My hand moves quicker when she squeezes onto my arms, digging her fingernails in. She’s wordlessly telling me how good this feels for her.
“Are you seriously going to cross that line?” Ryan invades my mind again when I grab his little sister’s PJ bottoms and start to take them off.
She whimpers, staring up at me, her lips red from the kissing. Her eyes are wide and shell-shocked. We stare at each other as though we’re waiting for the other person to come to their senses. We both wait for something to break the spell, but nothing does. She leans back slightly when I pull on her pants, giving me a better vantage point.
“Not all the way,” she whispers, her flush getting deeper.
I kiss her again passionately. In between the flaring passion—my dick is aching so damn bad—I tell her, “You’re beautiful. Your body is perfect. You never have to be ashamed with me.”
Suddenly, I’m an inexperienced rider on a too-fast bike, speeding off when I should be in control. I shouldn’t use words like never with my woman, implying something long-term could happen here. Long-term would mean blowing up our lives.
I can’t stop. My balls are full, my cock is throbbing, and my tip is leaking so much precome my underwear is sticky with the need to claim her.