Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
When he wrapped his hand around my nape and pulled me to him, I figured this was the day I was going to die because my heart was knocking against my ribs so hard I just knew it was going to give out. He licked me; a hot as fuck man licked my face all the way to my heart.
His lips moved against my ear, and it took me a second to decipher his words because of all the chills and electricity coursing through my body at once. “My woman does not go without panties unless I say so, and especially not when she’s going to be away from me.”
He started to pull back, but then his mouth was on mine, and I forgot how to breathe and almost passed out. “Breathe, baby; that’s it.” He breathed along with me, and then his lips captured mine once more while his other hand came to rest on my hip, pulling me into him.
I was almost afraid to move, to put my arms around his neck lest the movement made him stop. But when he deepened the kiss, my body took over, and I flung them there while playing tag with his tongue. Oh, lawd, can he kiss.
MACE
All day, I thought about her; it was surreal. I found myself thinking about things that hadn’t crossed my mind in years, not since I was a naïve kid with stars in his eyes anyway. Since I have no experience with a relationship lasting more than seven days at most and one night at best, I was a bit out of my depth when it came to where this one was going.
I felt like that jittery teen I was when I believed in love and happily ever after. She intruded on my every thought, and I’d find myself laughing at something funny she’d said or done since I met her. I realized during one of these intrusions, that I was happy, like genuinely happy for the first time in a long while.
I contemplated asking around for advice on how to fucking date but squashed that juvenile thought in favor of using my own brainpower. That took up about half the day. In the end, it came down to what I wanted for her. I grew up under the tutelage of a man who didn’t have much but went out of his way to make his wife feel special with what little he had.
I remember seeing my mom smile and blush like a teenager in love when dad would bring her home a bunch of flowers every once in a while. It didn’t matter if he’d bought them from some fancy place in a vase for their anniversary or her birthday or if he’d picked them from one of the gardens he created for the wealthy; she always reacted the same.
And I recall the way they used to hold hands, how they would go off in a corner, leaving us kids watching TV or playing a game while they whispered to each other and laughed. The way those two always looked out for each other is something I hadn’t seen in many other relationships
I can give her that and more; the surprising thing is that I want to. A part of me was thinking this was going too fast, and with the baby thing, I should be running hard for the hills, but something about her drew me in. I want to see her smile, I want to hear her laugh, I want to erase the sadness and insecurity I see in her eyes.
For the first time in my life, there was a fire in my gut for something other than my next business deal. I’ve never had the urge to spoil a woman before, and that’s what this is. I get the feeling she hasn’t been spoiled nearly enough, that she’s always had to be the strong one in her relationships if the conversations she’s had with her friend about her marriage are true.
But it seems to be moving so fast. I caught myself going down a maze of what-ifs and pulled myself back. I’m never this hesitant in business or with anything else I want. I’ve always gone after every acquisition with the determination to win.
Why shouldn’t I go for this? She’s everything I ever wanted in a mate. Not just her beauty or her lush body, but who she is. I want to give her everything she wants and more. I want to make her happy the way her ex obviously never did.
By the time evening rolled around, I was a man with a plan. She hadn’t run screaming after our night together and again this morning when I insisted on following her home because she wasn’t wearing any panties under that damn dress. So I’m guessing she can put up with my shit. Not that she has a choice anymore. She’s the only woman to sleep in my bed twice; that has to mean something, no matter how it came about.