Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
He flinched. Damn her stubbornness to hell. “We have a break in the schedule tomorrow night. We’ll talk then. I promise.”
“All right.”
“So you’ll touch me?”
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
“Fuck, Charlee.” He let a hard edge dominate his voice, even as excitement skipped through his bloodstream. Hopefully, his iron tone would provoke the twinge of anticipation she needed to climax.
He shifted, rolling her beneath him, and settled between her legs. His fingers met the moist crotch of her panties, and he tugged it to the side. He lined up his erection and bit his lip. Slowly, torturously, he pushed in. Her heat encased him.
“Ahhhh, yeah. Ah, God, feels so good.” The bellow in his heart exploded with the thrust of his hips. He couldn’t see her eyes through the dark, hated he wouldn’t be able to read her expression.
He pushed two fingers past her teeth, curled them, and put pressure on her jaw. Leveraging the grip, he turned her head toward him and strengthened his fingers to hold her in place. It was a perception of dominance rather than pain. He hoped the acceleration in her breathing was testament it was working for her.
He pressed kisses across her open mouth, licking over and around his fingers as he stroked and rotated his hips. So fucking warm and wet, the sensation of her spread through his groin and enveloped his body. Good God, he wanted to come. He picked up his pace and pulled harder on her jaw.
Her sharp, heavy pants unraveled the reign on his release. He pushed the surging sensations back, pounded into her, his free hand flexing beside her face. Her hips met him punch for punch. Was she close? Getting closer?
She bit down on his fingers, arched her back, and the hot walls of her cunt contracted around him. Oh, thank fuck.
He yanked his hand from her mouth, balls curling up. “Unngh, I’m gonna come. Oh, Jesus. I’m coming.”
“Mmm.” She bucked with him. “Come in me. God, I want to feel you come.”
Amplified by her throaty whisper, the spasm of bliss shot through his dick and tingled over his body. He collapsed onto his elbows, braced on her pillow.
Laughter tumbled from the bunk above. “Who needs groupies when I can listen to you two every night? Can you pass me a sock or something? I just spewed down my leg.”
Fucking Laz.
77
The next night, Charlee padded through the bathroom of their suite in the City of Fountains. Who knew Kansas City boasted over two hundred outdoor water-jetting displays?
Extra tubes, needles, ink, and green soap scattered the marble vanity. The remainder of the tattoo equipment waited with Jay in the bedroom, machines prepped and ready.
The old leather sketchbook she’d carried for three years lay open to the illustration she’d just transferred to stencil paper. She knew the drawing intimately, had doodled it so many times through the years, it was sketched it into her memory.
She washed her hands in the sink. No need for gloves. The body fluids they shared daily were much more intimate than blood and sweat.
Hands dried, she held up the stencil by the corners, her nerves aflutter. Hadn’t every day since the day she’d met him led to this?
Whatever you gave him made him look at things differently, made him want to get better.
Laz’s words came back to her from the night they fled the Cuban restaurant. Jay had worn his partial outline for three years. How did he envision the finished design? He didn’t know about the sketchbook, unless he’d snooped in her messenger bag while she slept. What if it disappointed him? Or worse, what if the completion didn’t give him the catharsis she knew he anticipated?
Deep breath. The forge of fire and steel was destined to exist on his back. She just needed to go slow, not screw it up. They had twenty-four hours until the Kansas City show. Plenty of time to help him uncover what he’d hid for so long.
Another lungful of air. She lowered the stencil behind her and walked to the bedroom, her gait jittery, her heart more so.
He sat on the edge of the bed, palms flat on his thighs. “It’s time.” He addressed Nathan and Tony, who stood in the sitting area outside the bedroom, but his gaze was on her.
The bedroom door clicked closed followed by another click of the outer exit.
Jay had demanded total privacy for the remainder of the night. Because their suite was a fraction of the size of the one in New York, it made it easier to convince the protective team to guard from the hallway. In reality, they were only one room away.
She placed the stencil on the desk and moved toward him until her knees brushed his bent ones. “Ready?”
“For three years.” He removed his shirt, tossed it behind him, eyes on her, overflowing with emotion. Was he as anxious as her? Was he having second thoughts?