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)
I scream as he drives into me, giving me just what I asked for. The pounding is so deep, so heavy and hard that I can see nothing, think nothing, do nothing but absorb the motion.
“Renn!” My voice pierces the air as tears form in the corners of my eyes. “Oh, my fuck.”
The words are disjointed, broken by the sound of our bodies smacking together. A plate falls from the table, breaking when it hits the floor.
I gasp as he drops my legs and grips my shoulders. He uses the leverage to drive into me, pulling me down as he pushes in.
My eyes open, barely, and I watch him fight not to fall apart.
“Now …” I whisper moments before one hand finds my throat.
He squeezes just enough to make me light-headed, just hard enough to take the pleasure from a ten to a twenty.
My muscles flutter around his cock, tightening and pulsing in uncontrollable fits of ecstasy. Renn drives into me one last time.
He lets go of my throat, returning his hand to my shoulder, and holds me tight against him as he spills himself inside my body.
I shake. I burn. I shiver as the orgasm continues to wash over me in waves.
Renn slowly, carefully pulls out. A drop of cum hits my leg.
I think I’m delirious. I’ve never been so thoroughly fucked in my life. There have been years of foreplay leading up to this moment. Damn, it was worth it.
I blink up at him and smile. “Hi.”
He forces a swallow. “Are you good?”
It’s the concern in his eyes that gets me. The softness, the kindness that glues my wits and senses back together again.
“What?” I ask, trying to unstick myself from the table. “Where’s the Mrs. Brewer now?”
He laughs and helps me sit up.
Renn brushes a hand through my hair and gently kisses my lips.
“Mrs. Brewer, how about we get a bath together?” he asks, his forehead resting against mine.
I wrap my arms around his neck. “I think that sounds like a great plan. But you’ll have to carry me.”
“You don’t want to hobble?”
I laugh. “Not until tomorrow.”
His laughter joins mine as he swoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bathroom.
CHAPTER 16
Blakely
“Okay, okay,” I say, laughing. “I remember that. I remember carrying the llama down the aisle with me and insisting it was my maid of honor.”
“You had everyone in the place dying. It’s one of the few things I remember clearly. You and that damn llama.”
Water splashes against the tub's sides as I poke my toes through the bubbles. Renn sits behind me, my back to his chest, with his arms wrapped around me. It’s so strange how … easy this is. Physically. Emotionally. In every way.
Two empty wineglasses, a plate and fork stained with chocolate icing, and one eucalyptus-scented candle rest on the windowsill, the flame flickering in the breeze through the open window. The ocean air mixed with Renn’s cologne could be a bestseller if I could figure out how to bottle it.
“Do you think this is what marriage is really like?” he asks. “Or are we just in the honeymoon phase?”
I rest my head against him. “I’m sure the honeymoon phase is always like this—or it should be.”
“I think this is what the whole marriage should be like. If you’re going to spend your whole life with someone, shouldn’t it be sex on the table and chocolate cake in the bath?”
“Sounds great to me.” I lift my hand and let the water roll off my fingers. “When I get married for real someday, this is what I want. I want to feel like it’s me and him against the world.”
He kisses the top of my head.
I hold his arms against me and relax into him. A smile has permanently been on my face since we left the kitchen an hour ago. I know this isn’t real, but I can’t help but imagine if it was.
“Do you think you’d be into marriage if it were like this?” I ask. “Would it change your mind about it?”
He blows out a breath. The movement of his chest takes me with it.
I don’t know why I asked the question, and I regret letting it pass my lips.
“I’ve never said I’m not into marriage,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. “I said I was keeping my options open.”
True. “But I got the impression you were just being polite.”
“Okay, I probably was just being polite. But I’m allowed to change my mind, aren’t I?” He shifts his weight around me. “I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t been against it. I’ve just never found myself in a situation where I thought—what if? You know?”
“And I’ve spent my whole life wondering about it. I watched my mother struggle with being a single mom and the loneliness that came with the title. I remember lying in bed as a child, hearing her up in the middle of the night sweeping the floors or making lunches for the next day because two in the morning was the only time she had to do it.”