Total pages in book: 174
Estimated words: 159159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
She crouched down, still looking at him, stepped out of her panties and, straightening, handed them to him. She’d been wearing a little white floral thong that looked as innocent as she did, until you factored in the sexy little twisted cords that made up the band and fell between her cheeks. His eyes meeting hers, he brought them to his nose without thinking, inhaling the scent of her. He wasn’t in the least surprised to find out she had her own unique fragrance.
His body didn’t just stir. Hot blood rushed through his veins and pooled in his cock. He wasn’t just hard, he was diamond hard, the kind of hard that meant a man could shatter if he so much as took a step. It hurt. A damn good pain that meant he was alive. That meant he didn’t have to command his body to respond, it just did it all on its own because his woman was so fucking hot, she was an inferno.
She sent him a smug little look. “Maestro, I think Ice could use another drink.”
There was that snicker again coming from someone behind him. Someone else answered, as if his brothers knew something he didn’t. He should have turned around to look but he couldn’t stop staring at her. He just took the drink Maestro put in his hand and tossed it back, letting the fire add to the steel in his cock.
Soleil racked the balls and picked up her cue stick. “You want to break?”
He should. He was taking a hell of a chance if he allowed her to break and she ran the table. She was certainly capable of it. On the other hand, he wanted the chance to distract her. He needed to see her reaction. She was so focused on him, he wasn’t certain if she was aware of the other members of Torpedo Ink moving around the room, and that was exactly what he wanted—what he needed.
He had managed to slip the wallet back into her pocket when he’d kissed her again. Code had made certain the cameras didn’t work in the back room. The others were guarding the door and turned away anyone wanting to come into the game room. His woman should be mildly and just pleasantly drunk. Maestro had gotten her a bottle of water, which she’d been drinking between sips of the screaming orgasm. Everything was lining up properly. He indicated with his cue for her to break. Maybe he needed to stop drinking and start paying more attention to what was going on, but between the whiskey and the woman, this could just be the best night of his life.
“You sink four in a row, I’ll sign your prenup. I sink four in a row, you sign mine,” he said just as she was about to take her shot.
She stopped and turned to him. Her eyes were suddenly pure focus. She didn’t look in the least drunk. In fact, she looked stone-cold sober, but as if those beautiful eyes were swimming with tears. “You’d sign my prenup?”
“I said I would. Any man would be an idiot not to. Do your worst, baby. I can take it.”
She blinked at him several times, and he swore tears looked like diamonds on her lashes. Then she turned and sank a striped and proceeded to follow it with three more. “I believe you need to find a pen, my man.”
She looked very somber, as if Ice signing the prenup was a very serious situation. She bent over the table to take her next shot. Her flirty little skirt slid up the back of her thighs and showed just the very edges of her cheeks. His heart nearly stopped.
“Got one right here, baby.”
Ice moved up beside her as if studying the table. He dropped his hand to the back of her thigh, stroking it for a moment before sliding it up under her skirt to find her bare cheeks. He rubbed gently, his palm continuing up until he was cupping one cheek, his thumb stroking caresses. Gently. He waited, his heart pounding, for her to pull away from him.
She felt perfect to him. Every stroke of his thumb over her soft skin sent hot blood thundering with desire through his body. He took his time, stroking. Caressing. Claiming her. He was careful to keep each touch light. He shaped her cheek, palmed it, then went back to those slow caresses.
Soleil pushed back into his hand, her hips moving invitingly. She didn’t stop him. She didn’t protest or move away. If anything, she moved back into his hand. He followed the curve of her cheek to find her entrance slick and hot for him. He used his fingers to edge all that scorching heat and then he caressed her cheek again before sliding his hand over the back of her thigh, leaving the skirt of her dress to ride up high.