Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“No, being on your lap.” I give him my best smirk and wink.
Chuckling, he says, “It’s pretty fucking fantastic, but I don’t want to take up all the top spots yet. There are a few places I still intend to take you tonight.”
I release a soft laugh. It feels like the reprieve needed, like a puncture in the building tension. “I’ll pack my bags.”
When he leans back, his body sinking into the leather again, he smiles at me as if we’re a time or place, memories he’ll recall long after this. So much is buried in his dark irises, but it’s there I discover it’s not only me who’s been stuck in stasis.
I was stuck in a hospital bed while physically healing, but most didn’t check on my emotional state.
Laird is the opposite. His head is trapped in the ruins of a past relationship while faking through life like nothing happened.
Willing to risk it all, I say, “I’m starting to believe we were meant to meet.”
He brushes strands of my hair back behind my ear. “I have no doubts.”
If I’ve learned one thing, Laird doesn’t do or say anything just to appease anyone. He speaks his mind, means what he says, and will happily stand on his own if he believes it best for him. So it’s not surprising to see how genuine his smile is. He makes me believe I’m the lucky one.
I hold his hand to my chest. “My heart is beating so hard that my chest feels too small to contain it.”
“Why is your heart beating so fast?”
“Because of you.” I cup his face and lean in to steal a kiss. “I haven’t been loved in so long, but you feel real. I can’t explain it, but you feel familiar, and it’s like we’ve been here before.” I release him and a heavy sigh in parallel. “Please don’t hate me for saying this. I just . . . I’ve never wanted to be with anyone as much as I do you. I don’t care if you shatter me tomorrow. Tonight, I want to feel alive again.”
Running a hand along my neck, he cradles my head to face him. “I want you.” Tilting me, he tracks his hand with his tongue to my jaw, where he bites. Not hard, but enough to send shock waves through my body and straight to my nipples. I gasp, the response uninvited as it exposes me to his will. “I want so desperately to be buried inside you that it hurts to think about.”
I am not okay.
Unable to think.
Not breathing.
I will not survive this night if this is how it’s starting. As if I’ll fall, I cling to his arm to hold me in place. Sliding the bridge of his nose under my chin, he whispers, “How badly do you want to come?”
I’m already on the edge. Leaning over, he toys with my bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth and then releasing it to lick the corner of my mouth. My gulp is hard to swallow and loud in my ears. I swear he can hear my desire as every part of my body reacts to him. “So badly.”
I’m scooped into his arms and laid on the couch like a treasure of precious value. “I’ll be right back,” he says, leaving me there staring at the fire.
“What do I do?” Oh God, I didn’t mean to ask that out loud.
“Get undressed for me,” he replies over his heavy footsteps that trail into the bedroom.
I sit there for a second, then jump to my feet and start stripping off the pajamas I had put on. Shorts dropped. Shirt tugged over my head. And yeah, with hope for sex on my mind, I didn’t put on anything else. I quickly spread a blanket over the leather couch and then lie down.
Still hearing his footsteps rushing around the bedroom, I realize lying here waiting for sex is so embarrassing. I grab another blanket from the pile he brought out earlier and cover myself, pulling it up to my chin and holding it there.
His steps through the house feel like a warning, but my body reacts on instinct, readying itself for him. I want to roll my eyes, but my nerves are getting the best of me despite dying to have sex with him.
He chuckles when he sees me. “Comfortable?”
“Very.”
“Looks it.” He drops packets of condoms down on the coffee table like candy. One. Two. Three. Good lord, there are four. I rub my legs together, wondering if I should be worried about my ability to walk tomorrow. Four. He has big plans, and the thought alone has me purring.
Laird sits at the other end of the couch, his hand resting on my leg as if we do this every day. Oh wow. Is every day a possibility? Yes, please. His hair is messier, his eyebrows wilder as if he’s run a hand over his brow a few times. He finally says, “I want to make this good for you—”