Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
She called me sir.
Christ.
A possessive thrill rushes through me at just the memory, overwhelming every ounce of control I have left. The sweet little angel has no idea what she's unleashed inside me. No idea that she's obsessed a man who won't stop until he plants his seed deep within her. Until she belongs to him in every fucking way imaginable.
"Lena," I groan, dropping my head back as an orgasm rips through me. My seed splatters against the tiles, dripping onto the floor at my feet. Even in the aftermath, all I can think about is her. My little girl.
One way or another, she's staying, not just for the night, but until she's mine in every goddamn way.
Chapter Three
Lena
I'm standing outside the bathroom door with my ear pressed to it, when it suddenly flies open as quickly as it slammed shut just a few minutes ago.
I jump back, startled as Carver steps out, his gunmetal gray eyes wild and his cheeks flushed. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his temple, capturing my attention for a moment. His crew-cut hair and square jaw give him an almost mean look, but he isn't. I think there's softness underneath that grumpy gruffness. He just hides it well.
A sense of raw masculinity and wild power radiates from him, as tangible as the heat blazing in his eyes. There's no hiding the power lurking under the surface where he's concerned. He's beautiful in a way that's completely foreign to me, fascinating in a way that should terrify me. I don't think I've ever met a man like him.
The fabric of his gray sweats clings to his muscular thighs and the bulge between his legs as he stops in front of me. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, his massive biceps straining against the thin material of his white T-shirt. The thick, corded muscles ripple under his sun-kissed skin every time he breathes.
God, he's gorgeous. Rugged and masculine in a way that makes my body hurt.
"Um, I…" I search for something to say, but I can't think of a single thing when I heard him in there, groaning my name as he touched himself. That deep, gravelly moan made my toes curl. Even now, my entire body throbs at the reminder of the deliciously wicked sound.
He glances down, meeting my gaze. A blush sweeps over me, probably turning me red from head to toe, and I quickly dip my head, hiding my eyes from him.
No one has ever looked at me the way he does, as if he's a dying man in the desert and I'm an oasis. No one has made me feel the electrifying sensations buzzing through my body whenever his eyes are on me, either. It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and I don't understand it.
I understand desire and the concept of sex. I know I'm ungodly attracted to him. I may be a virgin, but I'm not stupid. That's not what I'm talking about. This is something different, something that makes simple desire look flat and lifeless, dull and uninspiring.
But I should be afraid of him. He's a complete stranger, and he was just in the bathroom, masturbating. Yet I'm not afraid. When he pins me with those gorgeous eyes, I feel intensely, overwhelmingly safe. I want his arms around me, his heart beating against my ear. And when he rewards me with one of those rare smiles, I want to find a thousand new reasons to make him give me another one.
That's not normal. None of this is. The feelings coursing through me aren't remotely close to rational. I know I shouldn't stay here with him tonight…but I'm staying anyway. Because I'm desperate for more of him. More of this. Even if I'm not quite sure what this is.
I peek up at him from beneath my lashes to find him still staring at me like I'm an oasis.
I lick my lips, and a growl rumbles in his throat.
Oh, I like that sound. I like it a lot.
He takes a step toward me.
"There's only one bed," I blurt, wringing my hands together when he immediately freezes in place.
Oh, sure. Now I find words.
"We're sharing," he growls, those gray eyes boring into mine.
My heart races at his response. I should tell him no. That's what any sane, rational person would do, right? Say no and carve out a little distance between us before this gets out of hand. But I don't say that.
Why don't I say that?!
My feet betray me, moving almost of their own volition as I follow him across the living room to the bedroom, anticipation coursing through me in a powerful flood.
Once the door closes behind us, he quirks a brow at me, almost as if he's proud of me for being so brave…or daring me to keep being this courageous.