Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 142043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
“Maxim,” she breathes and shifts, so she runs her fingers over my fly, tracing my erection through denim.
Ah!
The lift stops, the doors open, and I pick her up. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.” She complies, her fingers tangled in my hair, our lips locked, as I carry her the short distance from the lift to our front door.
* * *
Alessia giggles as Maxim reaches around her thigh into his jeans pocket for the key to the front door. “Not much room in my jeans,” he grumbles, retrieving his key and unlocking the door while holding her. The alarm beeps, but he disarms it, carries Alessia into the hallway, and sets her on her feet.
“As much as I want to take you to bed, let’s look at music colleges.”
“No. Let’s go to bed.”
He draws back, his expression blank in apparent surprise. “But—”
“No. Bed.” Alessia is more insistent.
He frowns and grasps her head, lifting her face to his, his intense green gaze on hers. For a moment, he looks lost and confused, but he closes his eyes.
“What did I do to deserve you?” he breathes, and then his lips are on hers, his tongue taking hers as he walks her backward into the bedroom. As their tongues wrestle, he keeps moving until Alessia feels the bed at her calves. He stops and, with a wicked carnal smile, gently pushes her onto it so she falls back flat on the bed, a strand of her hair settling on her face.
Maxim stands over her, removes his jacket, and tosses it on the floor. With blazing eyes, he yanks his shirt from his jeans and starts to undo the buttons. Slowly. One at a time. His lips are parted, soft and sensual, his breathing measured but increasing.
Alessia licks her lips in anticipation.
Once his shirt is flapping open, revealing the tanned and toned torso beneath, he raises a cuff of his sleeve and undoes that… then the other.
He’s stripping for her.
At a wanton and leisurely pace.
Alessia watches. Captivated. Her gaze drinks him in: his broad chest, with its smattering of hair, the toned abs, the trail of hair from his belly that heads down beneath the waistband of his jeans.
His eyes don’t leave hers. He’s not even touching her and she’s seduced, her arousal spreading between her legs and making her squirm. He draws off his shirt, in the way he does, over his head, so it ruffles his hair, messing it up just the way she likes it. Then he discards the garment on the floor without a care in the world.
He undoes the button of his jeans.
And stops.
No!
He leans forward and grabs her ankle—adroitly removing her ankle boot and sock. He then repeats the process with her other boot, running his thumb down her instep when her foot is naked and making her squirm.
He leans over and undoes her jeans. Deftly. He’s so quick that he’s grabbed the hems of her jeans and yanked them off before she can take a breath. He deposits them with his clothes on the floor.
“You. Your jeans.” She waves toward his groin.
Maxim grins and slowly unzips his fly, but he doesn’t remove his pants. He steps out of his shoes and removes his socks. Then he sweeps off his jeans and underwear so he’s free in all his glory.
Alessia gasps and Maxim moves onto the bed and plants a soft wet kiss at the juncture of her thighs through the soft cotton of her panties. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through her body so that she gasps once more, her fingers tangling in his hair. He strokes his nose up and down along her most precious seam, his stubble prickling her thighs.
“Your panties are wet, sweet Alessia. I like. I like that a lot.”
He nips the inside of her thigh, his lips sheathing his teeth, and Alessia tightens her hands in his hair and tugs.
He kneels up between her legs, pulls her into a sitting position, and quickly divests her of her jacket and her long-sleeved T-shirt. They go the way of the rest of their clothes, so Alessia’s left in her bra and panties.
She reaches up and strokes his stubbled chin.
“Do you want me to shave?” he asks.
“No. I like. Muchly.” She gently rakes her fingernails across his cheek, and he closes his eyes.
“I have an idea,” he whispers, and grasping her head once more, he kisses her. His tongue is insistent, dominating and subduing hers as he lies them both down. His fingers tug down the cup of her bra, freeing her aching breast, and abandoning her mouth, he leaves a trail of wet kisses down her throat, across her chest to the straining peak of her nipple.
Desire courses through her veins, and she turns dark eyes to blazing green as he strokes his chin across the sensitive bud.