Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
His voice sounded different—not seductively persuasive as it had been the night before, and that difference wasn’t doing a thing to help clear her mind. The arrogance was still there, but with it came something else—something menacing, something sinister that was colored with uncontestable mastery. And even with his off-colored compliment sending tingles straight to her nipples, the word ‘coup’ jumped out at her, and while she tried to wrap her hung-over mind around it, he continued, “We’ll get on well together, of that, I have no doubt.”
As he subtly caressed her chin, she opened her mouth and tried to speak, but was cut off when he lowered his head and took her mouth under his—as if he had every right. Against her will, a firestorm of lights went off in her brain. Oh, God, yes, she remembered his kiss. She remembered his scent . . . she remembered his taste.
She remembered exactly why she’d agreed to what he’d wanted.
Desperately clutching the sheet to her chest with one hand, she was incapable of stopping her free arm from reaching up and twining its way around his neck. Her brain was in upheaval. She’d missed out on the chance for a big wedding—so what? She prayed this situation was as it seemed, that they had both wanted each other so much that they’d done the crazy and tied the knot. That’s what she hoped, but her nerves were telling her it wasn’t true—at least not on his part.
When she grasped him around the neck, his kiss rapidly changed to full blown possession. It hit her immediately—here was yet another difference in his manner. His kisses before had been romantic, sexy, deliciously wanton. This kiss was different. It was possessive, intractable, dominant. As his tongue swept inside, he took her hand from around his neck and thrust it behind her, trapping her full-length against him. She suddenly had the feeling that she was somehow his captive, and damn if that didn’t send an entirely inappropriate rush of sparks erupting along her nerve endings. How could her body and rational mind be in such conflict?
Max groaned, the sound radiating through his body into hers, and the fingers around her chin changed dramatically as well, going from soothingly gentle to inflexible steel in less than a heartbeat.
As he held her chin, he began tongue-fucking her mouth, deep, fast strokes that left her questioning her sanity and fighting for oxygen. His kiss was relentless, forceful, yet perfect. It demanded nothing from her, he only took what he wanted, leaving her with no decisions to be made. It was an addictive feeling, a safe feeling, letting him take the lead.
His hips moved in to press against hers; his erection was more than apparent as it blatantly pushed against her stomach.
She felt an equal measure of light-headedness and arousal. She shouldn’t be allowing this—everything was messed up and her faculties weren’t in working order. Something felt not quite right. Did she care? She had to care. The near loss of control was enough to jerk her from her lethargy and force her brain to start functioning again.
She pulled her lips from his and turned her head to the side, dragging in air so hard that it made her chest jerk up and down. Max’s hand slid from her chin to her jaw, holding her captive, even as he growled a low warning and dropped his mouth to her breast, where he unerringly found her nipple under the sheet that covered her.
At the aggressive touch, her traitorous nipple pebbled and heat formed anew between her thighs, her trembling legs doing nothing to hold her up; it was his body pressed against hers that enabled her to remain standing.
She released her tentative hold on the sheet to push against his shoulder. “Max.”
Another low rumble came from his chest as he ignored her struggles and began dry humping her against the bureau. His hips pressed into her; his teeth scraped over her nipple as if he couldn’t get enough.
Desperate now to stop what he very obviously wasn’t going to stop, Erin began pushing harder. “Max—stop.”
His muscles tightened. She felt it happen. His touch seemed to go from compelling to territorial as his pecs hardened. He lifted his mouth from her chest and slowly, he stood up, but he didn’t release her. His hand left her face and sank around her waist, the other threading through her hair, tangling in her messy locks and holding her hostage as his eyes snapped open.
The look emblazoned on his face sent a thrill down her spine—it also scared the holy bejesus out of her. The expression he displayed was ownership, pure and simple. His brown eyes dared her to challenge him—as if he’d stamp out any struggle for control before she even attempted to test her boundaries. There was nothing displayed on his features that hinted at a lack of purpose. The wedding ceremony had been calculated—not something he’d done on a lark, she could see that now.