Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“I’d like that” is what I say.
You’re mine, too.
You’d think after what I just did in Karen’s office, after what I’ve set in motion with Kyle Manchester, saying those three words aloud to a man who so obviously cares for me and wants to claim me, would be easy, but I can’t seem to find the nerve.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Trevor
I’ve never considered myself a shallow man; I’ve never been impressed by a woman’s superficial qualities. My mama taught me early on to look beyond the surface of a woman, and to search out her substance. I’ve taken that wisdom into every relationship I’ve ever had. Looks have never been that important.
But damn.
Watching Sofie sleeping in my bed, I can’t help but thank every lucky star that my woman has substance and this body. The sheet has fallen away, baring her breasts and flat stomach. Her gilded hair spills over my pillow. We kissed away any trace of her lipstick before we even made it to Brooklyn, so her lips are bare and slightly swollen. Just thinking about what she was doing with that mouth an hour ago has me going hard again under the sheets. I won’t even allow myself to wonder where she learned to give head like that. Thinking about the men in Sofie’s past too long, too hard, will drive me out of mind. I’ll just appreciate her particular talents and rest in the knowledge that I’m the only one benefiting from them now.
This is actually me. Back propped against my headboard, watching a woman sleep for half an hour because I can’t seem to find anything I’d rather do. A knock at my door reminds me I have a shitload of stuff I have to do before we leave for South Africa.
I pad over to the door, naked as the day I was born, and crack it open just enough to see Henri in the hall, fully dressed.
“I’ll be ready,” I say, preempting her lecture on getting my ass in gear for our flight.
“You do that.” She cranes her neck, trying to see into my bedroom. “Is someone in there? What’s going on in there?”
“That information’s above your pay grade, Hen.” I laugh and close the door.
I turn around to find Sofie sitting up in bed, ivory sheets puddled around her waist, breasts playing peekaboo through the blond hair hanging over her shoulders, and eyeing me like the lunch we skipped.
“You, Mr. Bishop,” she says, licking her lips and blazing her eyes over my naked body, “are a work of art.”
I walk over to press one knee into the bed by her hip.
“So are you.” I take one plump nipple into my mouth, tugging until it goes tight on my tongue. “Edible art.”
“Do we have time?” She pulls my head up, kissing me deep and long before I have to pull away, shaking my head and breathing like I just finished one of my Ironman races.
“Sadly, no.” I pull her to her feet, admiring my woman when she leaves the sheet behind, standing before me naked. Tempting me on purpose.
“Are you sure?” She lifts a little to kiss under my chin, her hand taking my cock in a tight grip and pulling. “I’m very persuasive when I set out to be. I can be quick.”
“This I know.” I have to step out of reach, or face a very irate Henri soon. “But I can’t miss this flight.”
“Oh, you’re flying commercial.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know why people do that.”
We both laugh at her ridiculous statement on the way to the shower. After I washed her and she washed me, Sofie had her way with me again against the shower wall. Or maybe I had her. Fuck it. We had each other, and if I could cancel this trip, I would. Not just for this, but to be with her over the next few difficult days. She’s sitting on the counter naked, watching me shave, her breasts still flushed pink from the shower’s steam.
“He bit your breasts?”
I know it’s out of the blue to her, but the images of Kyle hurting Sofie have been torturing me since she shared them with Karen and Shaunti. It hurts to talk. Rage grates my voice up in my throat until it’s barely a sound, but a syllabic growl.
The smile Sofie’s been wearing almost constantly since we got here melts away. She just nods, reaching for a nearby towel and wrapping it around herself toga style. I wish I hadn’t mentioned it. We’ve managed to enjoy these last few hours of being together without that meeting completely ruining it, but I can’t not talk about it. The bastard tied her up and jerked off on her body. If he was that sick at eighteen years old, I can only imagine how more time, more power, more money have decayed him. The thought of him in the same room with Sofie sets off small explosives in my head.