Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“What?” she said, though he could only read her lips as he looked down at them from above. She must have been whispering.
“I give you a proper wedding night,” he said.
She huffed an incredulous laugh. “Pretty sure that’s a prize for you.”
He brought his mouth to her ear and felt his own eyelids grow heavy at the waft of her scent. “No lies detected. I’m gonna love going down on you, princess.”
Her quick release of breath bathed his throat, making his stones feel weighty, the nape of his neck beginning to sweat. “That’s . . . your prize?” she asked, finally, her tone threadbare.
“Uh-huh.” He slid his palms around to the small of her back and crushed her closer, letting her feel the resulting rumble in his chest. “It’s kind of a two-part prize, to be fair. First, I finally, finally get to fucking taste it, Natalie.” They both shuddered. “Second, every time you look at me in the future, you’ll have this knowledge in your eyes. That I know exactly where your clit is located and what the hell to do with it.”
The song ended.
She shoved away from him with a flushed face.
Applause broke out from the perimeter of the dance floor, startling her. And it gratified August to no end that when she was alarmed, she reached for him instinctively, fingers curling in the starched white material of his shirt. Before she could recover and step away from him again, August wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer, leaning over to plant a kiss on the crown of her head, the wedding photographer snapping away with pops of light.
Oh yeah. His heart boomed. They were in this.
The applause and whistles died and Natalie eased away, leaving the dance floor with a wary backward glance in August’s direction. Correction: he was in this.
In order to get his heart off the chopping block, he needed to bring her along.
Starting with an overhead lift. Jesus.
On the way off the floor, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started googling.
Chapter Fifteen
The limousine ride back to August’s home was short.
But effective.
Everything today involving this man classified as potent.
She couldn’t even blame it on the champagne, because she’d barely stopped talking long enough to drink two glasses. After they’d walked out of the reception and everyone threw handfuls of obligatory rice at them, August had pulled her into his lap in the back of the limousine and proceeded to pick the tiny, white grains out of her hair, his fingertips brushing the nape of her neck repeatedly. Out of self-preservation, she’d crawled over to the opposite seat, giving him an affronted look.
But the damage was already done.
She was turned on by her fake husband.
Not just buzzing with an electrical current of attraction, either. This was a full-on meteor shower of hormones, the likes of which she’d never experienced in her life. Not for her former fiancé. Not for anyone.
She needed to shut this down immediately.
This was a marriage inspired by advantages. Money. Eventually it would be over and they would walk away, hopefully better off than they started. This was not a long-term situation and introducing the complications of sex was a very, very bad idea.
God forbid it turned out to be good.
What would she do then?
Don’t pretend you don’t already know it would be good.
The fact that August had even mentioned her clit boded extremely well, let’s be honest. It wasn’t something that typically rolled off a man’s tongue—before or during the act—unless he valued the woman’s pleasure as much as his own. She would not have assumed that about the hulking SEAL who had somehow gotten red wedding cake frosting in his hair, even though they’d both been handed forks.
On the other hand, maybe it was a signal that he did excel at . . . giving pleasure?
“You’re thinking about me going downtown, aren’t you?” August drawled from the other side of the limousine, the cat fast asleep between his feet, purring loud enough to drown out the limo’s engine. “How does it feel? I’ve been thinking about it for over a month.”
They slowed to a stop in front of his house and the driver alighted, his footsteps on the gravel loud in the sudden silence. “I think we should put this bet off until we’re both totally sober.”
An eyebrow went up. “You had one, maybe two, glasses of champagne, Natalie.”
Had he really been paying that close attention? “If that’s true, why am I considering a dangerous dance lift with oral sex as the prize?”
A grin spread across his mouth. “Maybe you’re drunk on my charisma.”
“Nope.” Her stupid heart wouldn’t slow down. Slow down. “That’s definitely not it.”
The door of the limousine opened and August exited, cat cradled in his left arm, reaching in to help her out. He released her from his grip only long enough to tip the driver a twenty and throw him a salute, before recapturing Natalie’s hand and guiding her up the steps of the house.