Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
He hesitates and then reaches out to stroke my bare arm. It’s not the same as my light touches—his hand is huge and it’s a bit like being delicately stroked by someone wearing a catcher’s glove. But I still love it. I love the size of his hands and the calluses on them as they dance over my skin. I love the warmth of his fingers against me. I love how careful he’s being and how he looks at me as if I’m a fragile butterfly.
“My father is not well,” Rem’eb confesses. “He falls easily into sadness and will not leave his bed some days. And my people are fractured. They put up with much, hoping that when I take the chief’s seat, I will change things. I am my father’s only heir, the last of our line. I am responsible for their safety.
“If I am gone, I do not know who he would pass the chieftainship to. And I worry it would be someone that would destroy those of us who are left. So even though I am selfish and want to stay with you, I cannot.” His thumb strokes over my shoulder, even as another hand grazes my knee, and I briefly (and naughtily) wonder what it’d be like if he used all four of those big hands on me. “I do not even care what the surface looks like. I just want to stay at your side. Learn more about you.”
Oh. His words make me ache. I want that, too. I hate that we won’t get it. Not with how things are.
I take his hand in mine and guide it over my heart. “But what if we resonate? We’re both feeling…something.”
His gaze drops to my chest, to where I hold his hand. It’s between my breasts, snuggled against my cleavage. Was that intentional? Probably. Do I regret it? Not in the slightest.
Very slowly, I guide his hand to the side, toward my nipple.
Rem’eb’s gaze meets mine again, just as his hand clasps over my breast.
I gasp, heat flooding through me. With a whimper, I put a hand into his thick mane and pull him forward, locking his mouth against mine. He groans, and then we’re kissing furiously, his mouth slanting over mine with hunger. I slide onto my back and he moves over me, gripping and kneading my breast. His thumb skates over my nipple through the leather and I whimper with pleasure, kissing him harder.
My whimper turns into a moan when he flicks the leather down and bares my breast so he can tease my nipple properly. I’ve never felt such hunger or need through my body. I’ve kissed and fooled around in the past, but it never made me feel like I’d die if I didn’t get more in the next moment. Right now? I feel very much like the world will end if he doesn’t put his mouth on my aching nipple.
“Please, Rem’eb,” I whisper between kisses. “God, I want you.”
He licks at my lower lip expertly and continues to stroke and tease the tip of my breast, playing with it until the nipple is taut and aching. I moan, steering his head down even as I surge upward, and practically shove my tit into his mouth.
“Tia,” he breathes, and then his tongue is on my nipple and his arms are around me and I wonder if I could come just from this. I lock my legs around one of his arms, pulling it between my thighs, and grind against it. He growls low in his throat. “Tell me what you need and I will give it to you. Tell me how to ease your hunger.”
“Just…stay…right…there,” I tell him, even as I rock against the thick forearm that has somehow found its way under my skirt. I don’t care that I’ve mounted his arm and am grinding shamelessly against it. All I care about is easing this fire under my skin that has turned into an inferno.
Rem’eb lightly nips at the tip of my breast, and the shock of pleasure-mixed-with-pain makes me gasp—and gives me a sharp, quick orgasm. I come, groaning and clenching his head to my breast even as I rock against him. When I can breathe, though, the fire inside me doesn’t feel as if it’s been put out. If anything, it feels like the flames have been fanned.
This has to be resonance. Haven’t the others said that resonance always feels like no amount of touching is enough until your mate gets you pregnant? No amount of orgasms will soothe a khui that wants you knocked up. That’s definitely what this feels like.
Yet I’m not surprised—and only mildly frustrated—when I rub my chest and my heart is only pounding. Figures. If it’s resonance, it’s waiting for something. What, I don’t know. But it’s determined not to show its head just yet.