Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 129427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“It’s okay. You’re drugged.” I suppressed my laughter and leaned against the doorframe. It was awkward to bring up the subject while I was standing there in my bra, but I had to ask, “So... how’s your mom doing?”
“Much better. My sister and I decided it would be best if mum were to go live with her.” He sounded a bit guilty about that. “She’d been staying at my house in Somerset, but I think it’s a bit too much for her now.”
“You have a sister?” I filed that away. I didn’t know why, because it wasn’t like I was ever going to meet his family.
He nodded and gestured to the picture frame on my nightstand. “Do you have any siblings?”
“Only child.” I went to his side and reached down, gently tipping the picture onto its face. “Single mom. Very protective. She doesn’t need to be here for this.”
He laughed and pulled me into his arms, and I went, gladly. The unhurried tempo of an A Fine Frenzy song lulled me into a comfortable, relaxed state, as much as his embrace did. His hand splayed against the small of my back, the other slid down my arm, lacing our fingers together as he slowly pulled me into a sway with the music.
“I really, really missed you,” he whispered beside my ear as I leaned my head on his shoulder.
I was drunk. He was messed up on pills. And somehow, this was the single most romantic moment of my life.
I had to lighten the room a little, didn’t I? “You were only gone for a week.”
“Eight days,” he corrected me. He stilled, and released my hand so he could tilt my face up to his with two fingers. My lips parted in a smile as I anticipated his kiss, but he waited, looking in my eyes for a moment that took my breath away. “But I wasn’t talking about the trip.”
Why do so many emotions feel exactly like a collapsed lung?
There were a lot of things I could say, but all of them might lead to some kind of pharmaceutical confession he didn’t mean to make, and I was way too drunk to handle that right now. So I said, “Shut up,” and pulled his mouth down to mine.
I was used to controlled, careful Neil. He wasn’t in tonight. His hands were everywhere, roaming over my back, tugging at the clasp of my bra until I took pity on him and reached to help him. I slid my hands under his sweater and the button-down beneath it, and he pulled both over his head, bringing our bare skin together as though he couldn’t stand to be apart for another moment.
I’d read the term “ravished” before, I’d just never expected to use it in a context that wasn’t ironic. But there was no better way to describe the series of hungry, desperate kisses that left me literally swooning. Of course, the alcohol had a hand in that as well.
“Bed,” I gasped against his mouth. I held his face in both my hands as we tumbled onto the duvet. I tossed my bra aside and reached for the top button of my pants. He pulled me beneath him as I shimmied my jeans down my legs.
“Look at you,” he murmured against the tops of my breasts, kneading them in his hands. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
I moaned and arched into his touch, lifting my pelvis. I rubbed myself shamelessly against his thigh. Everything we did was sloppy and clumsy and awful, but so wickedly hot I didn’t want to stop, not even when he raised his head in dismay, releasing my nipple from his mouth to say, “I... Don’t have a condom.”
Yikes. There was that record scratch again, sobering me just enough to consider the situation. We’d both had our checkups, right? And I was on the pill. But the pill could fail. What would I do then? And did my fear of the consequences in the long term actually outweigh my horniness in the moment?
Not one damn bit. “I’m fine with that, if you are,” I told him.
He studied my face for a moment, clearly weighing things out on his end, too. For as much good as all the thinking would do either of us in our altered states. Neither of us should have been making this particular choice in this particular moment. All we cared about was that we felt good and were about to feel a whole lot better. Since there wasn’t anyone more capable— or less intoxicated— in the room, the choice was up to us.
“Oh, fuck it then,” he conceded, and pushed himself up to kiss me. I sucked at his tongue, gripped his shoulders, writhed shamelessly against him.
I wanted him so badly that I was trembling all over. I wrapped my legs around his waist, tore my mouth from his and begged, “Please.”