Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Into her tight-locked depths.
Into this body that flows and fluxes and ripples and shudders just for me, and now I can’t help but open my eyes to drink her in as we come together.
She’s pearl and gold in the moonlight, her skin gleaming and her head thrown back.
Her back arches so beautifully, thrusting her tits toward me like an offering.
Watching as she loses herself in sheer ecstasy is a hundred proof shot to my soul.
It’s like falling in love all over again.
It’s like finding myself when I didn’t know how lost I was.
It’s like I’ve been waiting my entire life for this.
For her.
As she soars on my cock and slowly comes back to me with her eyes flitting open, staring up at me in wonder, I can’t imagine a world without Ophelia Sanderson again.
She’s gonna kill me tonight and I’ll die a happy man.
I feel like my heart’s giving out as we collapse in a sweaty tangle—and I narrowly avoid crashing down and smothering her.
She’s so delicate under me, this tiny thing I could crush like a hummingbird. One thing I love about her is that she’s never been the slightest bit afraid of me or intimidated by my size.
Other people act like I’m one second away from hurting someone just because I’m big. They only see how easily I could bowl over a small crowd or turn a man’s face into a sack of busted skin and bone.
Always looking at me like they’re trying to find the threat.
They move different around me.
Keeping a certain space, like if they get any closer, they’re afraid they’ll get sucked into my gravity and compacted into tiny bits.
Not Ophelia.
She’s never been afraid to get in my face and tell me what an asshole I am with the absolute faith of knowing that no matter how I react, she can handle it.
She can handle me.
Hell, I think she’s handling this sex better than I am right now.
Because while I’m still shaking, shattered by just how goddamned good I feel right now, she’s a content little bundle.
She barely waits for me to sprawl out on my side before she tucks herself into my arms and takes her place against my chest like she belongs there.
I’d sure as hell like to say she does.
Do I even know what the hell we’re doing?
No.
All our lives, we’ve been part of each other’s landscape, sharp rocks and all.
She was always my best friend’s little sister, but we were friends.
We didn’t talk about it.
We didn’t admit it.
We didn’t dare.
She was just part of this unspoken thing that made us, and now I see that us didn’t break when Ethan disappeared, even if it took one hell of a beating.
I just never knew she had feelings for me, though I guess I was pretty damn good at hiding how I felt, too.
Still, just ’cause she’s living with me temporarily and we fell into bed together doesn’t mean we’re something more. Something solid.
As I press my lips into her hair, gathering her close and breathing in the sweat misted on her skin, I wonder.
How the fuck do I ask?
How do I even know what I want from her?
All I can think about is the present, this magic moment, how perfect she feels when she’s curled up and trusting me with her life.
“Mmm.” She sighs, rubbing her cheek to my chest. “That was a much better way to end the day than it started.”
I chuckle. “Was this morning so bad?”
“Not that.” She swats my chest lightly. “I liked waking up with you. Remember I was out grocery shopping and ran into Janelle Bowden?”
I open one eye. “Yeah? She adores you. What happened?”
“She’s...” Ophelia frowns, tilting her head to peer up at me through her sex-mussed hair. “She’s still carrying a lot of guilt over what happened to Lucas’ wife, I guess. And she doesn’t trust the chief anymore, as crazy as that sounds. Almost like she thinks he was complicit, instead of just being his lazy self and close enough to retirement to stop giving a crap. But she also said some weird stuff about Ros being engaged—and about our mom, too.”
I stiffen.
Anything I was about to say in defense of the chief and my own worries flies out of my brain. I stare at her.
“Your ma? The hell you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Ophelia whispers, laying her head on my shoulder with a fretful knit between her brows. “But she hinted Mom used to be pretty close to the Arrendells, way back before I was born. She didn’t have anything else to say, but that makes me wonder even more what Aleksander wants with Ros.”
“Me too,” I say too quickly.
I gather Ophelia close, wishing I could protect her from more worries and dark thoughts.
Maybe it’s nothing.
Though Janelle Bowden wouldn’t go stomping around spreading rumors lightly.