Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
My mouth set. “Wow, so much clearer. Which path will I choose?”
She laughed shortly, turning again and moving away. “Consider it carefully!” she sang over her shoulder, opening the door.
“You’re a quack, you know that?” I called.
She laughed merrily. “Aren’t we all, Chief Hale?” And then the door smacked shut behind her.
I returned to my room, where I decided to pace.
I’d never really been a pacer though. Instead, I sank down on the bed. Truthfully, I felt like running away from here whether my house was ready to be inhabited again or not. I scrubbed a hand over my face, realizing I was still wearing the thimble. I removed it with more aggression than was necessary and tossed it on to the bedside table. It landed perfectly right side up with a soft click, the inane donkey grinning crookedly at me.
My shoulders fell and that instinct to run away intensified. But I’d never run from anything. Ever.
There was a soft knock at my door. I startled, standing quickly and rushing to it, my heart flying in my chest. I pulled it open and Haven stood there, looking shy and a bit uncertain. A breath gusted from my lips.
She’d come to me.
“I wasn’t sure…well, I wasn’t sure whether I should knock on your door. That is whether…you might want company tonight.” Her cheeks flushed and my heart soared higher to know exactly what sort of company she meant. “Well, so”—she raised the picture I hadn’t noticed she was holding in her hand—“I asked Grandma for her advice.”
I opened the door wider so she could enter and then closed it behind her. “So that’s what my life has come to. The picture of a dead old lady now stands between me and a night of…benefits.” Happiness expanded. She was here.
Haven laughed, considering the photo. “It’s not such a terrible fate. She looks stuffy, but she’s actually very forward-thinking.”
“Grandma likes sex?”
“Very much so.”
My lip quirked as she stepped closer. “This conversation is killing the mood,” I said, even as my body responded to her proximity.
She placed the photo down on the dresser directly to her left, stepping even closer, her gaze sliding down my body. “All evidence to the contrary,” she whispered, reaching down and running her palm over my groin.
I hissed, clenching my eyes momentarily in pleasure. And pain. Knowing that in some way, that was always going to be my reaction to her. “Haven…” I uttered raggedly.
Her gaze met mine and she watched me for a moment, the way she looked at all suffering things: with tenderness.
I weaved my hands into her miraculous hair, bringing my lips to hers, tasting her sweetness.
She broke from my lips, dragging her mouth down my throat and nipping softly at my skin. I groaned as she reached under my shirt, running her fingers over my stomach and splaying her palms over my pecs. Surely she could feel my heart, its tempo swift and erratic. She looked up and met my gaze, and for a moment, an expression that looked very much like fear flitted through her eyes. Or perhaps it was just my own, reflected in her expression. I was scared. I’d never felt this way.
“Take this off,” she said, her voice whispery and thin. I did as I was told, lifting my shirt over my head and tossing it on the floor, arousal ratcheting higher and subduing the emotional turmoil I’d been experiencing since that moment at the fair. Hell, maybe since the moment I’d first laid eyes on her.
She brought her palm to my chest again, kneading the muscles softly and using her fingernails to feather over my skin, her gaze focused on the movement of her hands. I groaned again. “That feels nice.”
Without meeting my eyes, she gave me a soft push, and I took the few steps backward to the chair behind me, dropping down onto the upholstery.
She did meet my eyes then, her mouth curving as she stepped forward, leaning in and bringing her mouth to my neck again. She reached for the buttons of my jeans, and with an inhale I leaned back, helping her so she could pull them down my legs.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said, and her eyes rose to mine, her expression both shy and sultry.
And I want you to stay.
She ran her palm over my now-straining erection and I sucked in a breath, my head falling onto the back of the chair, my body stretched out before her.
She brought her head forward, kissing down my stomach and using her hand to rub me through my boxers.
“Haven,” I groaned, a tortured sound that accurately depicted how I felt.
“Shh,” she said, blowing on the thin line of hair that traveled from my lower stomach beneath the band of my boxer shorts. “Patience is a virtue.”
“Cruel.”
I felt the curve of her lips as she brought them to my lower stomach, flicking out her tongue and licking downward as she lowered my shorts. I sank down into the chair, giving in to the hot, drugging pleasure of her hands and mouth on my body and the smell of her shampoo drifting up to me as she went down on her knees.