Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“What is it with you thinking I’m stealing shit? First, it was babies, and now it’s rings.”
Her cheeks flush. I can feel the warmth run through my body.
“Look, cutie. This is a real marriage, even if it’s only for a short time. And I’m not about to let anyone think I’d marry you and not treat you like a queen.”
“You don’t think it’s over the top? Should I give it back to you when we get divorced? Yeah,” she says hurriedly. “I should. Of course, I should.”
“Blakely.”
She sucks in a breath.
“That’s yours. I want you to have it.” I start to tell her to do whatever she wants with it once we divorce, but I can’t make myself say the words out loud. It would break the moment.
No, it would probably break more than just the moment. I like this woman. I may not have ever thought I’d marry her, but now that I have, I want her to have everything she wants … which seems like such a one-eighty from my usual position. But this is Blakely. Everything is different.
“Please keep it,” I say. “I bought it for you. I hoped you’d like it.”
“In that case, thank you. You’ve blown my mind a little bit.”
Just wait until later …
I take the box from her and remove the ring. My heart pounds as I slip the delicate band around her left finger.
She lifts her hand in the air. “Now I get it.”
“Get what?”
She places her hands on her lap. “That’s why you got my nails done. Because you knew you were putting a ring on one of them.”
I smile.
“You, Mr. Brewer, are doing extremely well on your first day as a husband.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.” Her eyes darken. “But you could do better.”
I hum, pressing my shoulder blades against the chair to keep from grabbing her and proving her right.
She stands between my knees, bumping one with the side of her thigh to make more room. The contact sends a shock through my system until it pools in my cock.
The heat of her gaze—how it tells me exactly what she wants—is palpable. The parting of her lips, her hair falling to one side, and the slow, sexy smile that slips across her face makes it very hard to resist.
I lift my chin until our eyes lock. What do you want, Blakely? Tell me.
“So you’re my husband now,” she says, gripping the arms of my chair and boxing me in. The top of her dress hangs low and exposes the top of her cleavage. “That means I can kiss you whenever I want, right?”
I smirk.
She holds my gaze and slowly, deliberately lowers her mouth.
Fucking hell.
Her lips are soft, silky—pillowy against my own. She holds my face as she moves her mouth against mine.
My blood burns hot. Every muscle tenses. My fingers itch to touch, feel, and claim every part of her as mine.
Her lips, sweet from the wine, part and allow my tongue to slip inside. She combs her fingers through my hair as I deepen the kiss, scraping her nails across my scalp.
I bite her bottom lip, eliciting a yelp, just as I palm the backs of her thighs and tug her closer. She sags against me. Her mouth opened for my use, her neck falling to the side to offer me access.
Blakely moans into my mouth, sending a shock wave spiraling through me. I chuckle. She wraps my hair in her fists and tugs my head back.
Heat radiates from her pussy, warming my fingers that are gripping her inner thighs. She spreads her legs farther to encourage me to continue their ascent toward her opening.
I want her. My God, I want her. I want her so badly that I could crawl out of my skin … but I don’t.
Instead, I sweep my tongue across her lips. Dig my fingertips into her smooth skin. Absorb the weight of her chest pressed into me.
And then release her. I pull away.
Blakely pants, struggling to regain her composure. The taste of her lingering on my mouth does nothing to quell my ache for her. My painful, desperate need to be deep inside her.
“What?” she asks, her eyes wild. “Why did you stop?”
“Because you haven’t begged.”
CHAPTER 15
Blakely
I stare at him. “What did you say?”
He smirks, picking up his glass of wine and turning toward the kitchen.
My lips tingle from his kisses. The bottom lip burns from the bite he delivered when I scraped my nails against his scalp. A ball of fire sits in my core, spreading warmth through me that’s growing hotter with every minute.
“You do know what honeymoons are for, right?” I ask, leaning against the table.
“Yup.” He refills his glass, watching me out of the corner of his eye. “Fucking.”
The word rolling off the lips that I can still taste on my own is enough to make me want to scream.