Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
The sound of the shower going fills the bedroom despite the en suite door being closed.
My first instinct is to go inside and join her, my mouth watering at the idea of licking water droplets from her skin, but I know better.
I have so much to say, and as badly as I want my naked body sliding against hers, I know I need to have this conversation clothed.
I look down past my torso, noticing the threat of an erection behind the thin material of my boxer briefs.
"Well, mostly dressed," I mutter as I take a seat on the edge of her bed.
When the water in the bathroom turns off, I have to curl my fingers into her comforter in order to hold me in place when what I really want is to peek my head inside and offer to dry her back.
That then brings back memories of bending her over the kitchen counter and pulling down her leggings just enough to give me access to the most intimate parts of her, and I have to squeeze my eyes closed as a groan of need bubbles past my lips.
The woman is a blessing and a curse. She's literally going to drive me insane before this is all over. I just know it.
The bathroom door swings open, and Riley freezes in the doorway, her fist holding the towel tighter at her chest.
"Mac?" she says, clearly surprised to find me sitting on her bed. "What are you doing in here?"
A litany of suggestions comes to mind when she seems completely incapable of keeping her eyes from roaming down my body. I swear my stomach muscles contract on their own as if they feel a need to impress her or something.
"You've been drinking," I say, hating the hint of anger in her eyes when she snaps them from somewhere below my chin back to my eyes.
"Okay," she says with a death grip still on her towel.
If she drops it, I'm in so much trouble.
Getting her under me is not what I had in mind when I came in here, but God help me if it isn't the only thing I seem to be able to focus on right now.
"I get it," she says, a certain kind of sadness settling in her eyes. "We agreed to nothing serious with this sort of friends-with-benefits arrangement-"
"We are not friends," I snap, the idea of it making my stomach turn.
Her face turns to stone, and it takes me a few beats to realize why she would've had that reaction.
"What the hell are we then?" she asks, hurt in her tone even though I can tell she's doing her best to mask it with indifference.
I shake my head, my teeth digging into my cheek. As many things as I figured we could talk about, where my mouth wants to take me wasn't something I considered, but now it's all I can focus on.
"You're mine," I snap.
She tilts her head to the side, a mild look of disgust coating her face.
"I'm what?"
I don't know a lot about women, but I know those two words are giving me a chance to rethink what I just said. But now that they have slipped from my tongue, taking them back is the very last thing I want to do.
"You're. Mine."
She huffs as if I've just told a stupid joke she's heard for the millionth time.
"Mine," I repeat as I stand from the edge of her bed and walk toward her, but before I can press my body to hers, she holds her hand out, halting me in my tracks.
"Wait," she whispers. "What does that even mean?"
"Any distance between the two of us makes my skin crawl," I begin. "It doesn't matter if you're across the room, right down the hall, or all the way across town. I don't like it. It makes me uneasy."
"Just because you want something doesn't mean you can just claim it," she mutters. "I'm not some toy that can just be picked up and carried around and then discarded when you get bored."
I keep my mouth shut because she's absolutely right, and my lack of experience with serious relationships leaves me a little ignorant about what to do next. Although I've never felt this way before, I also don't know how long those feelings will last. I haven't given myself much time to sit and think about what any of it could mean.
"I don't even know what it really means, and, more importantly, I don't know that I want to be claimed by anyone."
I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip before responding. "It means you're mine to have, to protect, to care for, Riley."
Instead of her face transforming into the smile I expect with the declaration, her nose scrunches up as if I just told her it meant she has to wash my dirty clothes and mother me in some way. This is not going like I thought it would at all.