Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Oh,” I whispered, turning toward him and grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt, stretching it carelessly in my hands as his fingertips brushed over the crotch of my panties.
His words rasped as he asked the question, which I didn’t have to answer. It was apparent. “Turned you on, huh?”
I closed my eyes and buried my forehead in his chest, so I couldn’t see his evil smile, but I pictured it in my head.
“Next time, I’ll make you take off your soaked panties. But tonight,” he pulled the fabric to the side and out of his way, “this will do.”
There wasn’t time to catch my breath before his finger pushed inside me. There wasn’t time to think, not about anything but him. It was how he was in life.
He invaded.
The stretch to accommodate him felt good. So, freaking, good. His thumb flicked across my clit while his long finger pulsed in and out at an unhurried pace. It was torturous, yet filled me with bliss.
One finger gradually became two, and I was hopelessly out of breath. Whimpers and soft sounds of need dripped from my lips. I wasn’t going to last long like this. I’d already been close when I’d been going down on him.
He moved faster and harder, reaching a spot deep inside me that caused my legs to tremble and my pulse to roar.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Part of me didn’t want to. I knew it would be my undoing, and I wanted to live here in this moment just a little longer, balancing right at the edge before he took me over. But when he asked for it, I immediately complied, and—oh—his eyes. They were such a beautiful blue, deep like the water just beyond the cape.
His gaze was a weapon. It was an arrow, slipping past any defense I could mount, driving straight and true into my heart.
I came with a cry, my gaze locked on his. All the physical pleasure I felt was reflected in his eyes. Like me, he enjoyed giving just as much as receiving. Maybe more. The sensations wracked my body, washing me in heat and ecstasy, and as soon as the orgasm released me from its clutches, I gasped for air.
It took me a lifetime to recover. “It’s a good thing,” I panted, “you talked me out of sex.”
Concern washed down his expression. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Yes. It just, like, took a lot out of me. In a good way.”
I’d done a terrible job convincing him because worry continued to twist on his face. It was strange and wonderful, and if I’d been told six months ago it was possible he could care about someone else, I wouldn’t have believed it.
My palm made its home on his chest, hoping someday soon the heart beneath it would be mine.
“Seriously, I’m okay,” I said softly. “I’m better than okay,” I amended.
There wasn’t anywhere else I’d have rather been than right here, in his bed and in his arms.
Royce took the plate from me and set it on the silver tray resting on the top of his dresser. He’d had someone from the staff bring dinner to his room, and we’d eaten in his bed, talking about all the things we should have months ago.
It was an eye-opening experience. He was a fan of the classics, he said. Tupac, Jay Z, Biggie, and the Beastie Boys. He thought the movie Pulp Fiction was overrated. And he was curious if I was interested in booking a private yacht for our honeymoon so we could tour the French Riviera.
“Or,” he leaned back against the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest, “we can just stay on the boat the whole time. I don’t know if we’ll leave the cabin. I plan to spend a lot of time fucking the new Mrs. Hale.”
His smile made a blush heat my face, but at the same time, his words caused cold trepidation to grow in my stomach, and I pulled the comforter tighter across my body. I’d been so focused on the initiation, and then the wedding planning, I hadn’t thought much of what came after. I decided to deflect.
“What if I don’t want to take your last name?”
I imagined the question had the same effect it would if I’d told him his bank account was empty. He stared at me, seated in his big, white bed, and utter disbelief streaked across his face. “Excuse me, what?”
I had every intention of taking the Hale surname, but he didn’t need to know that. I blinked innocently. “If I give up my name, what do I get in return?”
His tone was wry. “A percentage of my enormous fortune.”
“Besides that.” I tilted my head and gave him a look to make sure he knew I wasn’t serious. Although, I sort of was. We’d taken a big step today, but I hoped by the time we exchanged vows, he’d be ready to share all of himself. “What will you give me,” I teased, “of value?”