Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I have to forget Chris and the way he burned me down, broken heart and all.
Later, by the time I collapse, sad and exhausted in my lonely bed, I’m too numb to think about anything at all.
* * *
Bam! Bam! Bam!
It’s always bad news when you wake up to a hammering sound in the dead of night.
I sit up, breathless, and peer toward my balcony door, the source of the sound.
Am I dreaming?
Knock-knock-knock!
Nope.
I race to the door, too shocked to worry about the t-shirt and jeans I’ve fallen asleep in.
For a second, the tall, dark figure outside sends fear slashing through me. My fingers are shaking as I reach for the switch that activates the light outside.
There’s no mistaking those shoulders or that crooked grin.
“What are you doing here?” I rush out, pushing the door open.
Chris smiles in the darkness and steps past me, into my room.
He doesn’t say anything with words.
His hands just lock around my waist, pulling me to his slab of a chest, and his mouth lands on mine like a meteor.
The hunger is insatiable.
It’s like our Vegas fling happened years ago.
My whole body vibrates with need.
We stumble toward the bed and he pushes me down, hovering on top of me, pressing his awesome weight into me while twirling my tongue in his.
This kiss could rival a novel, a hundred thousand ways to share the same vicious feelings.
Hunger.
Hurt.
Need.
“Fucking shit, Delia. How can I miss your taste this much when it’s barely been two days?” He breaks away with a guttural rasp.
God, I could ask the same question a thousand times over.
The summer sweat shimmers on his brow, giving his face a polished glow.
An animal heat strums my nerves, leaving me so on edge I can’t think.
But what is he doing here?
Did he really come back for me? To break the agreement?
I rake my nails softly over his neck, loving how he shudders and groans.
In Vegas, I couldn’t resist him. But I’ve never wanted him between my legs like I do now.
“Chris, why are you here? Didn’t we decide to keep our space?” I try to sound reasonable without letting on how thrilled I am.
“Bad decisions. I decided I need my tongue on your clit, woman. Need to feel you clenching on my dick again, everything I had on our trip and then some.” He stops, shoving his hand in my jeans, my panties.
I’m melting before his fingers even find my clit.
Before his insistent strokes become impossible to ignore.
“But this is—oh!” He pushes two rough fingers inside me, cutting me off.
“Wrong? Yeah, don’t give me that shit, princess. You know what feels right. Tell me you give a damn about technicalities when I’ve got my fingers in your pussy right over the sweet spot.”
And he reminds me just how sweet it is, curling one knuckle against my inner wall.
Holy hell.
This man only needs two fingers to destroy me.
I shake my head, hot lust overpowering a legion of wrong, crafting excuses I need to make this right.
“Chris, we—we shouldn’t,” I stammer out. “We can’t. I want this just as bad as you but we...we have to get over it. Don’t we?”
His eyes narrow, flashing angry evergreen.
“Get over fucking what?” he growls, anchoring his fingers deep inside me again, focusing all his teasing on that spot.
Everything unravels.
I’m breathless.
I’m helpless.
I’m gone.
Completely and utterly conquered, lost in his scent, the rays in his eyes that say, it was over the minute I stepped in this room.
Ready or not, we’re fucking tonight, princess.
He never drags his eyes away as his fingers work, pumping in and out, forcing a gasp from a mouth I can’t shut and a syrupy moan so thick I can taste it.
“There’s my girl,” he whispers, stunning me quiet with pleasure and hot kisses before he starts working off my clothes.
I don’t fight him.
There’s no resisting this when I don’t want to.
I just wonder if I’m still dreaming.
It’s surreal having him here, in my own room, right under our parents’ noses.
We should be careful, especially with the noise. I’ve caught Evie waking up in the middle of the night and roaming the halls several times.
If Chris shares any of my worries, he doesn’t show it.
He bends over me like a doll, undressing me, saving my panties for last.
Then with a searing look, he shears them off in one rough pull, leaving me in flames. There’s a loud ripping sound before they’re gone.
“I’m not sorry. I’ll buy you new ones,” he promises.
Honestly, neither am I.
Everything tightens in my core, anticipating his touch, his tongue, his manic, hungry cock.
“Careful. We can’t be too loud,” I hiss.
He nods slowly and covers my mouth with his big hand.
“Let me help you with that,” he whispers.
Ass. I can’t help but smile at his arrogance.
A minute later, I’m legit grateful. That hand is all that’s keeping me from shrieking through the walls when he starts kissing a line up my thighs and his tongue skims my folds.