Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” His mouth roves from my lips to my chin before descending. “I always have. Even when I forced you away, I wanted you. You’re the only girl who has ever scared me.”
His words circle viciously through my head as I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. Knowing everything I do, the confession now makes perfect sense. More than a year and a half ago, I admitted my feelings for him, and he shoved me away, terrified of being hurt again.
Colton spreads my thighs wide before settling between them and peppering soft caresses against me as he continues to mutter. I’m not sure if he realizes the secrets he’s so intent on spilling.
“I have no idea what you see in me, baby. I really don’t.”
When his tongue darts inside my heat, I suck in a shuddering breath.
“I never wanted you to get so close. I never wanted you to matter. I fought against it for as long as I could.”
He spreads my lower lips with his thumbs. Cool air hits my core as the velvety softness of his tongue swirls intently around my clit. This man knows exactly how to touch me. It’s only been a handful of moments, and already I’m perched at the precipice. Every stroke is deliberate. He understands what will shatter me into a million broken pieces.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” he whispers. My ears prick, trying to catch the words as pleasure continues to wash over me. “How could you love me when my own mother wasn’t able to?”
Heartache spears through the pleasure unfolding inside me, jerking me back from the ledge. It’s almost as if Colton realizes that his words are counterproductive to what he’s trying to achieve. With renewed efforts, he attacks my flesh, pushing me relentlessly when I’d prefer to stop and hold him close, soothing the pain that resides deep inside him. Grief he barely acknowledges to himself and never to me. But he refuses to do that. Instead, his tongue spears inside my body before lapping at my shuddering softness, driving me relentlessly toward orgasm until I have no choice but to dive headfirst off the cliff.
I scream out my release, pressing a hand over my mouth and squeezing my eyelids tightly closed as waves of pleasure crash over me. There’s a ruthless determination to his movements as his tongue relentlessly circles my throbbing clit. When I squirm, attempting to lessen the intensity, his grip tightens on my thighs, not allowing me a second of respite.
When my muscles turn lax, he raises his head. My eyes crack open to meet his glowing stare. He crawls up my body and settles between my legs before driving his hard cock inside me with one swift motion. It’s only when he’s buried to the hilt, and we’re locked together, am I able to breathe. There is a rightness to our joining. As if this is exactly where he belongs. In my arms.
When his gaze fastens on to mine, the world around us falls away.
I expect him to take me in the same abrupt manner he did moments ago. Instead, there’s a tenderness to his movements as his body rocks gently against mine. Almost as if he’s making love to me. The need to ground myself in this act floods through me, and I lift my hands until they can cup his cheeks. Even though I’ve just cum, another orgasm brews inside me.
“Don’t ever leave me, Alyssa,” he whispers into the darkness. “Don’t leave me the way she did.”
Instead of my body splintering apart into a million jagged pieces, it’s my heart that does so.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Colton
Just as I’m adding the finishing touches to a paper, an email pops up in the corner of my computer screen. Everything inside me freezes as I stare at the name. It’s as if I’m dangling at the tippy top of a sky-high rollercoaster, perched for descent.
C. Radcliffe.
In what universe did I think reaching out to my mother was a good idea? Why did I assume it would give me the closure I needed to move on with my life?
At the moment, it seems like the worst idea imaginable. A heavy wave of nausea crashes over me, and bile rises in my throat.
Instead of opening up the message and reading it, I slam the laptop closed and shove away from the table I’ve been working at. The more distance I put between myself and the computer, the better off I am. My chest grows heavy. Tight. As if there is a thousand-pound elephant sitting on it, making it impossible to breathe.
A cold sweat breaks out across my brow as I grab my keys and wallet and head out of the apartment. Twenty strides later, and I find myself at Alyssa’s door. I rap my knuckles against the heavy wood and shift impatiently from one foot to another. When half a dozen seconds tick by, I plow a hand through my hair.