Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I pull my phone out of my pocket and text him.
You did your best. You had to put your sister’s safety above all.
He smiles grimly. “Aye, but we fucked up the wrong people. And fucking up the wrong people is one of the worst fuck ups of all."
I’m furious at his father’s pressure on him, and I know for a fact that he doesn't want me here. I also know that pleasing him matters to Leith, and I wonder how far he'll take it. I wonder what it means to please his father. What I want to tell him is that his father is a man who will never be fully pleased, so he might as well not even begin to try. I would know.
I frown when I text him again. Well I'm not sure how your perfect father could've done the perfect thing at the perfect time, with just the right amount of force, with being perfectly perfect. But I happen to like imperfect people myself.
He reads the text I sent him. And breaks out in a grin so beautiful it makes my heart melt. It's the type of smile that makes a girl disintegrate, her resolve evaporate. I hate that I melt like a pile of sugar in the rain, but all I want to do is make him smile at me like that again.
“Come here,” he says, drawing me over to him. He cradles the back of my head with one of his strong, powerful hands. His fingers flex, sending shivers of awareness down my spine. His second hand comes to my waist, then slowly slides down until he cups my arse. He squeezes me there, too, and heat pools at my core.
“Bloody hell,” he grates in my ear. “I don't know if you'll be the death of me or if you’ll teach me how to truly live. But I’m willing to find out.”
Captured between his hands, held in a spell only he can cast, I go up on my tiptoes and bring my mouth to his. He’s a man who likes to command a situation, but I control every second of this kiss. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck. Bring him closer, and when his mouth parts open in surprise, I slide my tongue against his. The touch of his tongue with mine makes him moan. I love this, the feel of him in my hands, the way his body responds to mine, the way he doesn't even bother to fight the heat that flares between us.
He slides both hands down my sides, then up beneath my top, until his palms explore my naked skin. He quickly divests me of my top, and whips it against the wall as if it's in the way. Next, my bra.
When I’m standing in front of him bare-chested, he pulls his mouth off mine so he can bring his lips to my breasts.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls, before he captures my nipple between his teeth and sinks his teeth into the tender bud. My head flies back, my mouth parts, and he suckles the place he just abused. My knees wobble at the intensity of the feeling. I need him to stop, and yet I'll die if he does.
He thumbs my second nipple while he laves the first, until my legs feel like jelly and blood pounds between my legs, making my pussy throb with need.
With rough, impatient yanks and tears, he rips the rest of my clothes off and leaves them in a pile.
A fire crackles in the fireplace as he leads me to the couch.
“Fucking bedroom’s too far,” he growls. “I want you now.”
Does he really want me? Or does he just need to prove that he owns me? The doubts in my mind quickly come to a stuttering halt as his heated gaze meets mine.
“Strip me,” he orders, his eyes aflame as I lick my lips and nod. “I want to feel your hands on me.”
I want to see him, to kiss and adore and touch his naked flesh, to feel his muscled strength and beautiful body succumb to my touch. I love that he gives this to me.
My fingers fumble at his waist, as I unlatch his belt and tug it through his trouser loops. I hand it to him bashfully, and he gives me a teasing look as he coils it up and places it on the sofa.
I've never wanted to speak to someone so badly as I do him. There are so many things I would say to him. So many questions that I would ask. But it's tedious having to write to him, and things don't always come out the way that I mean them to.
I want to ask him what happened to his brother. I want to know what he thinks about his future. I want to ask him about his childhood, ask him what type of parents he has, ask him if he has any aspirations beyond this beautiful place. I want to ask him his favorite food, his favorite color, and if he's ever been to the beach.