Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Letting out soft, moaning pants, I slid my hand down his back and gripped his ass, digging in my nails in feminine demand. Growling into my neck, he took me harder, brutal in his possession.
The air rang with whimpers, groans, grunts, snarls, and the slap of flesh against slick flesh. Already a second orgasm was steadily gathering in force, making me crave more, faster, harder.
With my calf, I pulled him deeper, grabbing at him, scratching at him, trying to drag him closer even though we were as close as two people could be.
He grunted in my ear. “Love walking around, you by my side, knowing this pussy is all mine. You’re mine, Addie.”
The possessive words soaked into my bones and sang in my blood. “And you’re mine.”
I gasped as he began to ram into me so violently the headboard slammed against the wall. And the gathering force inside me? It curled my toes, surged up my legs, shot up my core and ruptured like a freaking volcano.
I screamed. Spasmed. Arched. Clawed at him.
“Fuck,” he gritted out. Three pitiless thrusts later he exploded.
He released my leg and collapsed over me, burying his face in my throat. I weakly curled my limbs around him, not giving a single shit that he was squishing me. We lay there for endless moments, tremoring and panting.
When my lungs had finally stopped burning, I said, “What a merry fucking Christmas this is so far turning out to be.” I felt his lips curve against my neck. “On another note, when we get your cock insured, we need to also get your mouth insured.”
“Hmm, if you say so.” Lifting his head, he dragged his gaze—so covetous and proprietary—over my face, absorbing every detail. The pads of his fingers softly traced the curve of my jaw as he said, “Never forget.”
I was reminded, then, of the short conversation we’d had last night as we’d lay in bed on our sides, facing each other …
“You know I’m not a person who instinctively shares what they’re feeling, so you’ll know I’m not going to regularly say the sweet shit that people in relationships like to hear,” he’d said.
“Sweet shit?” I’d echoed, amused.
“So I’m going to tell you here and now—there is not one thing more important to me than you. You’re everything. All I need in one little package. I love you, Addison Mercier. That will not ever change. Not even for a single second. Never forget it.”
And yeah, I’d gotten all choked up and so only managed to get out: “Love you more.” I had tried to later give him a more lovey-dovey declaration, but he’d stopped me with a growly kiss and then fucked me spectacularly hard, so I’d resolved to do it often.
Looking up at him now, I threaded my fingers through his hair. “I’m so glad I suggested that fallback marriage pact.”
He flicked my nose with his. “I’d have come for you anyway.”
“And I’d have still said yes, pact or no pact.”
“I know.”
I chuckled. “Such arrogance.” I tilted my head, excitement flaming to life in my belly. “Ready to open your presents now?”
“Sure.”
When we settled on the living room sofa, I handed my gifts over to him first—cufflinks, a designer wristwatch, his signature cologne, a bottle of his favorite whiskey, and a new vintage liquor cabinet, since the other was scratched to shit courtesy of Gypsy. The collection of gifts earned me not only some gorgeous smiles but a deep, lingering kiss that made my toes curl.
He then passed over my gifts, which included not only the gold compass but a diamond necklace with matching earrings, a huge box of my favorite luxury chocolates, a new tablet—I’d recently dropped the other, which now had a cracked screen—and a selection of signed, special editions of not-yet-released novels. One of those was written by Nina Bowen, and I might have squealed just a little on unwrapping it.
“The latter is for sure your favorite gift, isn’t it?” It wasn’t a question from him; it was a knowing comment.
I shrugged, hugging the hardcover to me. “What can I say? I love her.” As a little secret smile plucked at his mouth, I narrowed my eyes. “Every time I mention her, you get a weird look on your face. What gives?”
Humming, he dipped his mouth to my ear. “Want to know a secret?”
“Of course.”
“You have to keep it to yourself.”
“Done.” I placed the book on the table and gave him my full attention. “Tell me.”
“The name Nina Bowen is a pseudonym. The author’s real name is in fact Kensey Mercier.”
Shocked as all shit, I gawked. “Your mom is Nina Bowen? No way!”
He smiled. “Yes way.”
“You’re fucking with me,” I breathed.
“It’s true,” he insisted, chuckling.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Recalling the look on her face when I’d gushed over her tattoo and made that comment about loving Nina Bowen, I felt my cheeks go hot. Oh, God. “You haven’t told her that I’m so totally obsessed with her books, have you?”