Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
He searched my eyes. “I’ll work the rest of my life to change that, babe. Because still isn’t so bad. Neither is running. Long as I do it with you.”
I searched his face. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Understatement of the year.
He grinned, and it was a such a change to the intense look plastered on his face that it made me do the same.
Without reservation.
“Yeah, Snow. How about we do that when I’m not literally still inside my girl in the middle of the office with the door unlocked?”
I gaped at him. “You left the door unlocked?” I hissed.
His grin turned wicked. “Yeah, babe. Adds to the excitement.”
He pulled out of me so my glare at that statement melted with the motion. And the reality of having sex on a desk without a condom came with that motion.
Keltan glanced down, then buckled his jeans. “A second, baby,” he said, kissing me on the head before walking to a door I hadn’t seen before to the left of his desk.
Granted, I hadn’t seen much considering that all happened before I got to take in the décor.
The door turned out to be a bathroom. Small, by the looks of it, but modern and clean.
The sound of water running filled the office. It wasn’t huge but big enough for the giant desk solid enough to withstand a pounding to sit in the middle of the room. A large leather chair sat behind it, in front of a bookcase filled with various books and photos. I wanted to inspect it more, but Keltan returned, washcloth in hand. He stood in the middle of the room, all intense and hot. Staring at me.
“What are you doing?” I asked sharply, rather too aware that I was leaking all over his desk while his unlocked door could be opened at any point.
“Taking about a thousand mental pictures,” he replied roughly.
My glare had him moving.
I went to snatch the washcloth, but he circled my wrist with his free hand.
“No, Snow. I take care of my woman. Always. In every way. And most especially in this particular way,” he murmured, eyes on mine.
Neither me nor my inner feminist had it in us to argue, so we let him go about his business.
Though I literally just let him fuck me on his desk in the middle of the morning without so much as a blush, I felt my cheeks warming at the act he was performing and the fact that he didn’t drop eye contact while he gently cleaned himself from me.
Intimate.
Anyone could have sex.
With enough chemistry, you could have good sex. Even great sex. Granted, not exactly like what had just happened, but at least a version of it.
Desire and the heat of the moment amped up the act. Made it more.
But the afterwards, when everything leaked away but the fire still somehow remained, the connection? Like the way he was looking at me right then, taking care of me?
Yeah, that was different.
Dangerous.
He finished and then handed me my pants and panties.
I wordlessly put them on. Though the air was filled with silence and the musky scent of sex, it wasn’t awkward. It should have been. I wanted it to be. Because there was something scarier about it feeling so easy. So right.
Even with the mountain of issues between us.
Keltan watched me fasten my pants with lazy eyes, and as soon as I was done he gathered me in his arms, smoothing my wild sex hair.
“If I could choose a perfect way to start my perfect work day, even I couldn’t conjure that, Snow.” He shook his head, then kissed mine. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick. “No words.”
“Words are necessary,” I whispered, straightening and somehow finding it in me to step back. “Very necessary,” I continued when he surprisingly let me have the distance needed for such a conversation.
Silenced reigned.
“You said words,” he probed.
I crossed my arms. “I didn’t specify they needed to be my words.”
He eyed me. “I said all my words, babe.”
I frowned. “You saying you own me and then fucking my brains out doesn’t encompass all the words that need to be said.”
His eyes twinkled. “I disagree. That’s all that needs to be said.”
“Nothing about the six months between us, the reason for that to begin with? Or the year and half before that?” I probed, my voice flat. “It’s not as simple as a caveman declaration followed by an orgasm.”
“Two, by my count. Perhaps three,” he rectified.
I stared at him.
It was three. But no way was I telling him that.
He sighed, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “You’re so keen to make it complicated. To put us with the chaos that everything else is. What if we’re the only thing that’s simple?”
I laughed, cold and empty. “Baby, we make the outside chaos look well-adjusted. It’s never simple.”