Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
I think I must have a carpet burn on my chin because my jaw has just plummeted to the rug. It really is all about sex to him. His self-assuredness is shocking and his opinion of me inexcusable.
‘No!’ I shout, steaming past him into the kitchen. I need that drink! I hear him follow me, watching as I chuck my phone on the worktop and yank the bottle of wine up. ‘You’re a complete bastard!’ I yell, pouring my wine with shaky hands. I’m boiling mad. I swing around and fire him my most evil look. He actually winces slightly, which fills me with immense satisfaction. ‘You’ve got what you wanted. So have I. Let’s not fuck about.’ I spit. I haven’t got what I wanted, not in the least bit, but I ignore the voice in my head screaming that at me. I need to stop this before I get dragged any further into the intensity that is Jesse Ward.
‘Watch your fucking mouth!’ he shouts. ‘What are you talking about? I haven’t got what I wanted.’
‘You want more?’ I quickly swig my wine. ‘Well, I don’t, so stop hounding me, Jesse. And stop shouting at me!’ I go for brutality, but I fear I probably sound pretty pathetic in my attempt. Something’s got to work. I take another huge gulp of my wine, jumping when it’s swiped from my hand and tossed in the sink. I wince at the shattering of glass that cracks through the air.
‘You don’t have to drink like a fucking fifteen year old.’ he yells.
My fists ball at my sides as I use all of my willpower to calm myself down. ‘Get out!’ I scream. My attempts are failing miserably. I’m becoming frantic – desperate.
I shrink when he roars in frustration, throwing his fist into the kitchen door, leaving a huge dent in the wood.
Oh, shit! I stand there, eyes bulging and lips sealed firmly shut as I watch his fierce reaction to my rejection. He turns to face me, shaking his hand a little, and looks me square in the eyes, his sludgy stare attacking me.
Fuck me, that’s gotta hurt. I’m about to go to the freezer to get some ice, but he starts to stalk towards me. I brace my hands behind me on the edge of the worktop and watch him gain on me until we are front to front. He leans forward, placing his hands over mine, effectively trapping me.
Breathing heavily in my face, he scowls at me, and then smashes his lips onto my mouth. My breath is literally sucked out of me as I writher under him, trying to free myself. What’s he doing? Actually, I know exactly what he’s doing. He’s going to hit me with a reminder fuck. I’m so screwed.
He pushes his lips harder against mine, but I don’t accept his kiss. I keep telling myself that this is bad, so bloody wrong. I’m going to hurt even more if I accept this, I know I will. I half-heartedly try to free myself, but he growls low in his throat, his hands tightening on mine. I’m not going anywhere. My desperate attempts to halt this are being seriously hindered by his sheer determination to break me down.
His tongue skims my bottom lip as I continue to deny him access, shuddering in an attempt to fight off the reactions he’s drawing from me. I know if he gains entry, it will be game over, so I stubbornly keep my lips locked shut while mentally pleading for him to give up.
When he releases one of my hands, I instantly grab his bicep to push him away, but it’s no good. He’s a powerhouse of a man and a determined one at that. He’s not affected in the slightest by my meager attempts to free myself.
He grabs my hip tightly and I jerk under him, but I’m pressed back into the worktop. I’m completely trapped, but I still defiantly reject his kiss, keeping my lips shut tight. I turn my head away when he eases up a bit.
‘Stubborn woman.’ he mutters, pressing his lips against my neck, licking and nibbling his way down to the hollow, circling long, wet strokes before working his way up to my ear and biting at my lobe.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pleading with my self-control to resist his irresistible touch. My fingernails are digging into his tense upper arm and my lips are locked shut for fear of letting out a cry of pleasure. His hand leaves my hip and moves slowly across my stomach, skimming the waistband of my shorts.
‘Please. Please, stop.’ I cry.
‘You stop, Ava. Just stop.’ Slipping his index finger under the material, he traces left to right, in slow, soft, measured strokes while continuing the invasion of his lips on my ear and neck. I could cry with frustration.