Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
As I labored to catch my breath, he began placing kisses on my thighs and my eyes snapped open…he was kissing my scars. Gently, deliberately. A surge of emotion jammed in my throat, my eyes glassy with it. I expected skill. I expected sensual fireworks. I didn’t expect tenderness.
“Scott…” I forced out, the sound rough and vulnerable, begging him to stop but hoping he wouldn’t. He’d said he missed me. I’d missed him more.
His head lifted. He pulled me up off the island and picked me up. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, his solid strength, his steady presence, his big heart, as he carried me into his bedroom.
Laying me down gently, he let go long enough to pull his thermal shirt over his head, revealing blocks of muscles I couldn’t wait to worship as thoroughly as he’d done to me. Then he pushed down his jeans and took his Tom Ford boxer briefs with them.
Seeing them brought a smile to my lips. But that smile dropped in a hurry when I got a good look at his erection. This was a man made for “sinning” and if that was true then I wanted to be a sinner too. I was suddenly sweating from how turned on I was. As if I hadn’t come twice already––a certified record for me.
Watching me closely, never taking his eyes away from mine, he lowered himself over me. Words got lost, sentiments saved for another day. There’d be time for that later. He pushed my knees apart and entered me in a single solid thrust. Not gentle. A claiming one that announced his intentions as clearly as his words had done back in the kitchen. I came three more times that night. Scott was a man of his word.
Chapter Eighteen
Sydney
The next week was bliss like I’d never experienced before. An underlying whisper of a voice kept telling me to be careful, fairytales belonged in children’s books, not in real life, and this one had begun on shaky legs at best. Regardless, I didn’t listen. I dove headfirst into it––and so did Scott.
I cooked him my favorite meals and he taught me how to ride a horse––better yet, a pony. We took trail rides around the property whenever the weather permitted, and Scott showed me all the reasons he loved Wyoming.
I worked. He worked. In the meantime, I was growing extremely uneasy about Frank’s secret. He’d been missing more and more days at the office, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it sapped some of the sweetness out of this new and improved marriage.
One day Scott surprised me at noon. He said he had something to show me. We drove to a high point with an unobstructed view of Upper Falls, the famed waterfall of Yellowstone while my stomach did somersaults. When I’d asked him what the rush was, he’d said, “You consider yourself lucky, right?”
He gave me a sexy smirk and I kissed him, pouring everything into that kiss, hoping he could feel what I felt for him. Every feeling felt like a first with him. And in many ways that was true.
“Very lucky,” I told him, looking into his eyes. Lately that sentiment had grown roots. One look at him and no one would argue.
Sure enough, twenty minutes later, a sun shower started and shortly after a rainbow appeared across the sky.
“How did you know?” I asked, dumbfounded, in awe.
His mouth shaped into a lopsided smile, his eyes dancing with mirth. “It’s my job to know.”
I’m not prone to flights of fancy, but the man made a rainbow appear. Was it any wonder I was falling in love with him?
“Just stand still for five more minutes…” Romeo scooted away and started running in circles around me, his entire massive Wolfhound body covered in shampoo.
It was high time these two got a bath and the weather was finally cooperating. I’d found a spray nozzle out back and went to work.
“Romeo! Get over here! Stop it.” The more I chased, the faster he ran, tongue hanging out, tearing up the lawn because this was the best game ever! Then Juliet got in the mix, barking loudly, and it all went to hell. Romeo suddenly hit the brakes and shook, sending suds flying everywhere––and me screaming when some hit me in the face.
“What’s going on here?” an amused man inquired. Behind me, Scott was grinning. Taking off his ball cap, he adjusted his hair and slammed it back on.
“They smell like cow shit is what’s going on,” was the obvious reply.
I wiped my brow with the back of my wrist and watched Scott’s gaze track up and down my body, taking his time to thoroughly evaluate my wet t-shirt covered in dying suds, my hair falling into my face, and my bare legs shoved into my Hunter boots. He was so distracted that he missed Romeo coming at him like a heat-seeking missile. Before he knew what hit him, Scott was on his back, lying spread eagle on the ground.