Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
This time, I’d run for good.
His gray eyes darkened, and Charlie licked his lips, slowly and deliberately. “Interesting.”
“Is it?”
Charlie nodded. “It is.”
Holy hell. There was something seriously wrong with me if I could be turned on by a slow lick of the lips, when just a few short weeks ago I was being fucked hard nonstop by whoever had the cash or the favor to offer up. Another shiver stole through my body, and I had to look away.
“Why?”
“Because,” he said, and put one hand on top of mine to get my attention. “I had you all wrong. You probably have me all wrong too.”
“I don’t think so,” I told him without looking at his face. “I might have a few biases against bikers, but you took me in and treated me with kindness when it made your life more difficult. You’re a decent guy, Charlie. A good man. Your mama is good people too.”
A gorgeous man too, who’s thumb swirled circles around my pulse until it was thumping out of control.
His hand left mine and instantly, I felt colder without him, looking up to see what I’d done to cause such a quick separation. I had to sit down again to clear my head.
But Charlie sat right beside me on the bench, his thigh brushing up against mine. Was that deliberate?
“Great. I’ve gone from prison warden to a good man, I’d call that progress.”
I nodded, taking my time to turn and stare at him up close. His dark hair and those eerie gray eyes made a panty-soaking combination, but it was that boyish smile that promised a lot more than it should, that made him irresistible.
“And what about me, Charlie? Am I more than just Ronan Rhymer’s daughter? More than a whore?”
He bit out a curse and shook his head. “Fuck. I’ve never thought of you being a whore. You’re such a stubborn girl, aren’t you?” Instead of waiting for an answer, Charlie grabbed my wrist and placed my hand on his denim-covered cock. His long, hard, and incredibly thick cock.
“You think just talking to some whore could get me rock hard like this?”
I chuckle-snorted. “Honestly, I have no fucking clue. I don’t know you that well.”
His gaze was dark, his expression fierce as he grabbed my chin and forced me to look at his face. “Then let me make it known for you, Savannah. I do not think you’re a whore. I think you’re a sexy as fuck woman who found herself in an unfortunate situation. And most telling about you, that you survived. You fucking survived it, Savannah. Remember that. Fuck!”
He pulled back and shook his head, from; I didn’t know, disappointment or sympathy or some vulnerable shit I didn’t want to see when I looked at him.
He wanted me to know he was attracted to me. He wanted me, Savannah, with no last name. If anything, the Rhymer name made his desire feel complicated or dirty.
“Charlie.” I said it hesitantly, maybe just to say his name.
He didn’t look up at me, and I gave his cock a squeeze, letting the thrill of that small movement rocket through my body. It had been far too fucking long—if ever—since I touched a cock solely for the pleasure of feeling the heavy weight of it in my hand.
“Savannah.” My name exited his mouth on a growl, low and guttural, the visceral need like an invisible string tied to my clit. He grabbed my wrist to stop the slow stroke of his cock.
“Yes, Mr. President?” My lips tipped into a smile when he glanced at me. “You want me to continue?”
His mouth opened and a breathy, “Yes,” slipped between a smile as his head shook in a clear sign that he didn’t want me to stop.
“You sure?” he asked in a low tender voice.
“No,” I told him and nodded slowly. “But I’m here, and I’m sure enough to try.”
Charlie opened his mouth, and the last thing I wanted to hear was more good guy shit, so I leaned forward and stopped his words with my mouth. His lips were soft with just a hint of dryness that let me know I was kissing a real man, not the fragile ‘yes men’ Ronan so often shoved in front of me.
Charlie didn’t move at first, giving me time to make up my mind and that one small act was, apparently, exactly what I needed. In the next second, I was straddling his lap, both hands shoved through his thick black hair while I kissed him and ground on him, eager and horny. The jeans I wore provided no barrier against the hard denim or the harder cock straining beneath it.
“Savannah,” he hissed. Charlie’s chest heaved in quick breaths, his eyes wide, showing that he was just as surprised as I was at how hot that had gotten and how quick.