Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I don’t remember deciding to undress her, only the blur of cotton over her head and the soft whisper of it landing somewhere on the floor. She’s left in a simple bra that celebrates how perfect she is. I drag a fingertip down the center of her chest, pause at the small clasp nestled there, and murmur, “What happens if I open this?”
Her eyes—wide, bright, refusing to flinch—lift to mine. She doesn’t say yes but then again, she doesn’t have to. The answer is in the way she stands her ground and lets me look.
I flick, and the clasp gives. The fabric loosens, and her breasts spill free. I can do nothing but pause to take a breath, then I’m cupping her with both hands, relishing the warmth and testing the weight. Maddie gasps when my thumbs brush lightly across sensitive skin, puckered nipples.
“Perfect,” I rasp, not even trying to swallow the hunger in my voice. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the first smart thing you ever said to me.”
She huffs a laugh that turns into a sigh when I bend and put my mouth on her. It’s not delicate, more reverent, but also greedy all at once. She fists her hands in my shirt and bows backward to give me better access. The TV’s blue wash flickers over her skin and I smile from the sound she makes when I take more.
“Atlas,” she breathes, half warning, half plea. My name has never sounded like that.
I kiss her again, hungrier, rougher, and the world tilts. She reaches under my T-shirt, slides her hands up my stomach to my chest, and I almost lose it. The way she touches—curious, claiming, like she’s memorizing me—lights me up in places I’ve never felt.
“Let’s get this off,” she whispers, and I hurriedly drag the offending material from my body.
She leans forward, pressing a kiss to my collarbone, but I need to take back a little control. I fist a hand in her hair, tilt her head, and trail my mouth down her throat. I let my teeth scrape her shoulder, causing a shudder to rack her body, so I do it again. Maddie makes a quiet, helpless sound that I want to hear on repeat for the rest of my life.
Her shorts sit low on her hips, a taunt I can’t ignore. I slip my fingers under the waistband, pause for a beat to make sure she’s with me, then tease the soft folds with my fingers. She bucks at my touch, makes a strangled sound against my mouth, and I test the depths to find her soaking wet.
My ego is stoked and my dick is hard as a rock, which she finds out with a tentative brush of her fingers against me.
Yeah… we both want this, but I still want to make sure we’re seeing past the lust. It’s when Maddie’s hand palms me roughly through the fabric of my jeans I grab her wrist and pull my lips from hers. She stares up at me, features stark.
“We’re hitting the point of no return,” I warn.
“I’m not scared,” she says.
“I am,” I say with brutal honesty. “But I don’t want to stop either.”
She smiles at me, and it’s heart stealing. “I’ll be brave enough for both of us.”
That’s all I need and my starving hands get to work. Clothes are shed and it’s not coordinated at all. There’s stumbling, laughing and long kisses in between.
Somehow, we end up on the couch, bodies pressed together, hands roaming. I don’t rush but I don’t drag it out either.
I do merely what her body asks for, learning her response to my touch and following through with more. My hands map the curve of her waist, the flex of her thighs, the trembling tension that says she’s strung tight when my fingers slip between her legs.
When I press a finger inside, she groans and rocks her hips against me, tiny words of need spilling out of her. It’s sexy as fuck and I shift my touch from gentle to probing, watching the way her breath stutters when I circle her clit, how her fingers clamp around my shoulders when I give her more. Every sound she makes, every move she tries to hide and can’t, drives my need to pleasure her.
She presses her forehead to mine, eyes squeezed shut, whispering my name like a secret. I skim my nose along hers. “Open your eyes,” I murmur. “Let me see you.”
She does.
And God, the blue in them—bright and stormy—wrecks me. She holds my gaze while I keep her riding that thin line between too much and not enough. My fingers work mercilessly to coax her higher. And when Maddie’s breath breaks and her nails bite into my shoulders like she’s hanging on for dear life, I whisper to her, “That’s it. I’ve got you.”