Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Pain relief is a very important part of the recovery process,” he said. And, despite the seriousness of the situation, my lips curved up. “And when my cock is buried in that tight, wet pussy of yours, I am feeling no pain.”
Despite myself, my sex tightened at his words. And I must have made some sort of noise, because a sexy little chuckle escaped Sully.
“Greedy pussy, too,” he said. His hand shifted down from my waist.
“Sully, stop. You need to rest.”
“Seems like I need to give my girl another orgasm,” he countered, making my heart skip at his words.
My girl.
I wanted more than anything to be that, to believe he genuinely meant that.
“Whoops,” he said, his hand flattening against the triangle above my sex. “Lost you,” he said, picking up on something about the tension in my body. “Where’d you go?”
“I’m right here,” I said, shrugging.
“Nope. You got lost in that head of yours, huh?” he asked, pressing another kiss to my neck, then reaching for my hand, turning me, then pressing me back against the door again. He lifted our clasped hands, pressing both of them against my chest.
“I know I didn’t lose you with the sex appeal. I mean… look at me,” he said, using his other hand to gesture down at himself, that playful, boyish light in his eyes. “Was it what I said?” he asked, eyes going serious in a literal blink.
“Sully,” I said, gaze slipping down. “You need to be resting.”
“Nope,” he said, releasing my hand to grab my chin, forcing my head back up. “I need to figure out what about what I just said was a problem. Was it because you don’t want to be my girl?” he asked, making my belly flip. “Or because you got yourself convinced I don’t want that?”
Wow.
It was both refreshing and annoying how good he was at reading me.
I wanted to love it. It made it so I didn’t always have to fumble around to find a way to communicate my more complex or embarrassing feelings. But it also meant I had nowhere to hide, no secrets I could keep.
“I know you don’t take things with women, you know, seriously.”
“Hm,” he said, nodding. “I think there is a difference between casually having fun and not taking things seriously. But I get what you mean. I’ve been pretty open about my escapades in the past. That said, all parties involved knew exactly where we stood. And it’s my mistake for not being clearer with you sooner. This is not just hooking up. Unless that’s all you want.”
“No, I… I’m not really… a hook-up kind of person.”
“Right. Figured as much. And I get why, when you’re hooking up with a hook-up kind of person, that your instinct is to think I’m bullshitting you about wanting more. But I wouldn’t do that.” He leaned a little closer to me. “You believe me, that I wouldn’t lie?”
“Yes.” He’d been nothing but honest with me. And even if my mind was oftentimes an ugly place full of insecurity-driven dark thoughts, he’d given me no reason to doubt him.
“Good. So we’re on the same page. You’re mine. Which means you’ve got lots of fun ahead of you. And I’m gonna learn how to knit!”
It was so absurd that a silly little laugh bubbled up and burst out of me.
“What? You don’t think I could do it?” he asked, looking a little crushed.
“I think maybe we should start with crochet,” I said. “You could make a scarf.”
“Just in time for spring.”
“I think it might take you until next winter,” I teased.
“That’s true. The chances are pretty damn good that I’m gonna keep getting… distracted,” he said, his hand pressing unexpectedly between my thighs, dragging a little whimper out of me.
Then, yeah, he went ahead and got distracted for a while.
But I sure as hell wasn’t complaining.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bonnie
“What on Earth are you doing?” I asked, coming back into the bedroom with a tray of breakfast foods and coffee to find Sully standing next to the bed with one leg up on the footboard, bending his upper body down toward the mattress.
“I don’t think this scene in our book is physically possible,” he declared, dragging a surprised choking sound out of me.
Right before I’d gotten up to go get us some food, he’d been reading aloud from one of the books that I’d brought. And let’s just say it was thin on the plot but heavy on the steam. There’d been a lot of uncomfortable shifting in my seat while he read scene after scene of the main characters and their acrobatic lovemaking.
I had to admit, my heart felt all gooey that he called it “our” book.
“Maybe it’s just a proportion thing,” he decided, looking at me. “Get over here.”
“I am not doing that,” I insisted, my smile spreading.