Hate Mail (Paper Cuts #1) Read Online Winter Renshaw

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Paper Cuts Series by Winter Renshaw
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Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
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Despite how badly she wants this, she’s still a virgin.

I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for her.

It should be special and memorable and perfect—the opposite of everything else she’s experienced at my hands.

“What are you waiting for?” she asks, writhing under me. I silence her question with a kiss before gripping my throbbing cock and sliding it inside of her, inch by inch, slow and gentle. She’s tight, as if her body was made for mine but hasn’t been broken in yet.

“Relax,” I remind her as she tenses against me. “Breathe.”

Campbell exhales, her nails digging into my back as I thrust in and out, slow at first, then gradually turning up the pace as I’m driven by a sense of urgency. The collision of our bodies only serves to make me crave more of her.

“You feel so damn good,” I tell her, excitement lurching through as her body responds to mine, becoming softer, wetter, more pliant with every thrust. “You’re a natural.”

She kisses me. “Shh.”

I drive deeper inside her, implored by her wanton gaze. I could do this all day. All night. All damn week. Silently, I decide to call out from work. How could I possibly leave this woman after this? I want seconds, thirds. I want to devour every last inch of her until she knows just how much I intend to right my wrongs.

“I think I’m getting close …” she sighs, “don’t stop, don’t stop …”

A few seconds later, my beautiful bride is twisting, writhing, bucking, and moaning. Burying my head into her neck, I breathe in her addictive sweetness and brace myself for the biggest release I’ve ever known—a release a lifetime in the making.

We collapse in an exhausted heap when we’re done, making it impossible to tell where her body ends and mine begins.

Peering up at me through a fringe of dark lashes, she smiles, and for the first time in my life, I feel something I’ve never felt before.

Hope.

32

Campbell

“Can I ask you something?” I cup my hand over my eyes, peering at my husband as he soaks up the sun in the lounge chair beside me. After the unexpected turn of events this morning, he decided to take the day off to spend some quality time with me. He’s determined to prove he meant what he said, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he said any of that at all.

For twenty-four years, this man gave me every reason to believe he hated me.

I’m still not one hundred percent sold.

When I first read that journal, I wondered if it was some little mind game he was playing. I thought maybe he was trying to get back in my good graces so we could consummate the marriage because he may be complicated, but he’s still a red-blooded American man. While we did technically consummate it, nothing about the experience felt mechanical or detached—in fact, it was the opposite.

He was warm and tender and attentive—a stranger with a familiar face.

I saw him in a light I never knew existed.

“What is it?” He glances away from the biography in his lap and lifts his sunglasses to the top of his head. The scent of banana and coconut suntan oil and sea spray fills the air. Overhead, seagulls squawk and circle in search of food, but given that this stretch of beach is private, we’re the only ones here, and we were too busy doing other things to think about packing snacks … they’re out of luck.

“Would you have married me if you truly hated me?” I have to know. “Was it always about the money and you just happened to fall for me? Or …”

His jaw tenses as he considers his answer.

“And you have to be honest,” I point at him. We talked about this earlier. From this day forward, our policy is honesty always, no matter what.

“My father’s media company,” he begins, drawing in a long breath. “They’ve garnered a reputation over the years for being quite biased—politically that is. One of the things my father has always told me is that, if you have money, you have power. In our case, our power comes in the form of a media conglomerate that has enough collective power to influence political elections and national and worldwide events. My plan has always been to disassemble the company completely and put it back together, rebuilding it on an unbiased platform.”

I’m taken aback.

Not only is Slade capable of unlocking his heart, he’s actually admirably ethical.

The familiar stranger I married clears his throat and continues. “They say you have to be the change you want to see in the world. I intend to be that.”

“And you were willing to sacrifice your own happiness, forgoing a chance at being truly in love and building a life with someone, all so you could make this happen?”


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