Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Beat.”
His tongue kept going. Faster. Faster.
He looked directly at her and pushed two fingers inside of her body, rotating them, rubbing an undiscovered spot that made colors bleed together in her line of vision, then pumping them in and out. Hard. Fast. Mimicking what he’d done to her with his body last night and her back arched off the bed, her cry of his name singeing her throat.
No sooner did the spasms ebb than Beat was guiding himself between her legs, thrusting home with a strangled curse. Taking a moment to look into her eyes, to revel with her in the wonder of them being joined so perfectly. Just as suddenly, her back left the mattress, Beat lifting her upright with her legs locked around his waist. He walked on his knees until he could press her back up against the solid wood headboard—and then he fucked her against it in a way that could only be described as brutally beautiful.
“Before millions of eyes are on you today.” He drove deep and held, held, held until she started to whimper, squirming between his strong body and the unmovable barrier. “I just want to remind you that I’m the only one who gets you like this.”
“Yes, yes, yes, please. Please. Don’t stop.”
“There’s no Beat without a Melody.”
Her heart grew almost unbearably tight.
“I dreamed about you,” he breathed in her ear, beginning a slow bump and grind that made her neck lose power, falling back against the headboard. “You were right beside me and I was still searching for you.” His swallow was audible. “I hope it’s not going to be a problem that I’m obsessed with you, Peach.”
Time seemed to suspend itself. “Is it going to be a problem that I’m obsessed with you, too?”
Intense eyes zeroed in on hers, his jaw flexing as he started driving harder again, in that no-mercy fashion, banging the headboard off the wall. Boom. Boom. Boom. “Look at me. I can’t keep my cock out of you. Two days without you and I felt like I was losing my mind. Do you think it’s going to be a problem?”
“No,” she breathed.
“Correct,” he grated, right on top of her mouth. “Come on it, baby. Feed me.”
Melody’s body must have sworn its allegiance to Beat without consulting her, because she didn’t have a say in the matter. Everything inside of her simply obeyed, her belly getting that achingly light flutter, her thighs ticklish on the insides, the effect of overstimulation coming to a head at once and coursing through her like a current of hot water, jolting her knees and robbing her of sight. “Beat,” she wailed—pinned to the headboard roughly as he climaxed with her, his groans of satisfaction loud in her ear, his hips jerking out of rhythm, holding, holding as the pleasure washed away in degrees.
With Melody still in his arms, Beat toppled backward on the bed, her laughter sounding foreign in a room where she’d never laughed with anyone. He pushed her hair back and she stared down into his beautiful face, leaving her heart hovering somewhere in the clouds.
“I can’t wait until Christmas is over and the cameras are gone.” He leaned up to kiss her softly. “I would love to take you somewhere for a month until all the mania dies down.”
“Wreck the Halls is streaming in forty countries,” she reminded him gently.
“We’ll go to the moon.”
“I’m in.”
The buzzer stayed buzzing for a good thirty seconds this time. There was no more avoiding reality—or the reality show, to be exact—and they gave in with twin groans of frustration, reluctantly climbing out of bed. Melody put on her robe while Beat traipsed into the living room to find his pants. They met, haphazardly dressed, in front of the door a moment later. “Brace yourself for the wrath of Danielle,” Melody yawned.
She opened the door.
Approximately nine thousand camera flashes went off.
Capturing her in a robe, hair mussed from three rounds of sex, Beat standing beside her shirtless with a bite mark on his shoulder.
Danielle stood still as a statue, observing them in a wide-eyed sweep.
Joseph stood behind her, camera on his shoulder, red light flashing. Filming.
The cheers could probably be heard in Berlin.
“Serves you right,” the producer sniffed, pushing her way into the apartment. “I’ve been calling you for an hour trying to warn you.”
Beat finally snapped out of his shock, wrapped an arm around Melody, and drew her against his chest, hiding her with his body as he slammed the door. For a count of five, he stood there holding her until a laugh rumbled in his chest, steadily growing louder.
Melody looked up at him. “What are you laughing at?”
He laid a firm kiss on her forehead, appearing thoughtful. “Well, I started to get upset—and I am, in a way. I don’t want these people standing outside of your apartment. I want you safe and we’ll have to work harder to make that happen. On the other hand . . .” He ducked down to whisper for her ears alone. “I’m kind of . . . glad that we’re going to be all over the internet looking like we just spent the night in bed together. Why wouldn’t I want everyone to know I’m sleeping with you? Actually, I’m fucking thrilled about it.”