Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
She shifted on the bottom, her other leg spreading of its own accord. The material fell from clumsy fingers and her forearm brushed over her nipple, drawing a gasp from her throat.
So sensitive. Brushing against the taut tip shot thousands of shocks through her and the pleasure-pain mixture was so intense stars flickered before her eyes. The second it faded, she wanted it again.
And again.
“Damn it.”
Goosebumps popped up along her skin from his sexually frustrated tone.
“You’re a goddamn Venus, baby. I’m going to hell in twelve thousand different ways for this. Let me touch you.”
“You are.” She tipped her head back to view his face.
Bryn’s gaze burned where it touched her. His chest lifted and fell in a jagged rhythm. His fingers tightened on her inner thigh but as much as she longed to watch his touch on her skin, she couldn’t find the wherewithal to tear her stare from his.
Raw.
Honest.
Hungry.
And something more. Something she’d never seen in the gaze of anyone who happened to look at her for more than thirty seconds. This man was aware of her. Saw her in a way no one else either cared to view her or wouldn’t.
Bryn, however, he saw beneath the polished smiles. The dutiful curtsey she gave, the deferential behavior she put forward, how she showed everyone the good daughter she was, despite how they spoke about her.
Her breaths came faster, harsher, shallower. Her head was spinning from Bryn’s intoxicating smell as he continued crowding into her body as he remained behind her in what should be the most inappropriate way fathomable, but she craved more.
“Baby.” He gulped and her gaze dropped from his eyes to follow the motion of his throat then bounced back up. “I need the words.”
Deep down she knew this was going to end in heartache. Hers. But she didn’t care, this need, this burn within her ignited hotter for one person and he was right here with her. This…this was the experience she sought.
“Touch me.”
Bryn lost the ability to breathe, and not for the first time since he’d snuck into Rosamunde’s room only to find her in the tub.
Naked.
Suds sliding over those curves he dreamed about whether asleep or awake. She’d taken up residence in his mind and he wasn’t able to dislodge her. Not that he was sure he needed her gone.
Had he been a better man, he would have left when he realized she relaxed in the hot water.
A better man wouldn’t have come in the room in the first place.
There. It was accepted he wasn’t a better man. Because he had snuck in, and not only that, he’d stayed. He’d approached her, his nose assaulted by her evocative scent of violet and mint and a light hint of the fire.
Now he leaned over her from behind, her deep chestnut hair slick with water and begging to be wrapped around his hand as he had his way with her. Christ, his cock jumped and he struggled not to reach down and adjust himself. This woman had a body made for the most carnal of desires and damn if he didn’t long to experience all of them with her.
Standing as he was, he could see beneath the water and her full breasts were pinker than her shoulders at the moment, he assumed from the heat. He wanted to make her stand up so he could see all of her.
Taking the shell of her ear in his teeth, he nipped her lightly and she jumped but didn’t squeal. No, no. Of course not. She moaned, tipping her head slightly to the left in silent invitation.
She doesn’t need lessons on how to snare a man. She’s seductive all on her own.
Possessiveness swelled within him at the thought of someone else seeing her like this. Making her skin flush with desire. He pushed that down with an angry shove. He shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.
Running his nose along the elegant curve of her neck, he took a deep breath and allowed her fresh, warm scent to flow into him. There was something intrinsically feminine about her and he wanted to simply indulge.
Gripping the edge of the tub with his left hand so hard he feared there would be an imprint on his skin, he slid the fingers of his right hand up and down her inner thigh. He wouldn’t dream of marking her skin.
Would I?
Because were he to be truly honest with himself, he would love to see his marks on her creamy skin. To know his lips, his scruff, his teeth had created them.
“Do you touch yourself?”
He heard her gulp, not seeing it. But the hesitation was there.
“Of course not,” she began, only to stop when he squeezed her supple flesh.
“Don’t lie to me, lioness. Be honest.” His voice octaves lower to his own ears.
She shook her head and he nipped the side of her neck, loving how she trembled beneath him.