Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“Are you sure?” His brows lift and his words come out measured, but the flare of heat in his eyes tells me he’s as ready as I am.
“Am I sure I want to spend the night with the most fascinating man I’ve ever met who I’ve wanted for twenty years? Um . . . yeah. There’s little doubt.”
His hand slips from the small of my back to settle possessively at the curve of my hip. He leans down until his lips brush the sensitive lobe of my ear, sending a tiny shudder through my body.
“I have a room upstairs,” he whispers.
I tip up onto my toes to reach his ear. “So do I.”
“I’m on the fourth floor.”
“Eighth.
“We’d get to my room first.”
“The sooner the better.”
He grabs my hand and we make our way to the elevators, heads down, eyes averted, stopping for no one. The dim light helps, but I think our body language tells anyone who would try to approach us to fuck off.
When the elevator arrives, we are the only ones boarding. As soon as the doors shut, Touré leans against the wall and pulls me to stand between his legs. He bends to take my lips between his, hands tracing my sides and over my hips. Standing this close, his erection is unavoidable, pressed into the juncture of my thighs. I roll against him, drawing out a groan that rumbles from his throat.
“We only have four floors, Ni.” His chuckle reverberates through my clothes, my bones and into my heart. “Save that for the room.”
I giggle into our kiss, feeling lighter. Feeling like we’re those impressionable kids freshman year leaving our friends behind at a party. It didn’t happen that way, though. He didn’t approach me. I was afraid to approach him. When I left that party, Tyrone and a group of upperclassmen were standing out on the sidewalk. I wasted time with him and he broke my heart. The arrogance of youth is assuming you’ll always have more time. It makes you reckless or in our case too cautious. Now as the elevator doors open and we practically run down the hall toward Touré’s room like the kids we once were, there is no caution. There is chaos in my belly, a swirl of anticipation. There is eagerness in the way he jerks the door open and pulls me in, closing it behind him and pressing me to the wall. There is urgency in the way we tear at each other’s clothes. Impatiently, he yanks the zipper at the back of my dress. It slumps around my torso, slides down my arms, bares my skin to the cool air and the dark.
“I want to see you.” He leaves a trail of kisses across the naked slope of my shoulder.
I nod jerkily, letting him tug me through the suite and into the bedroom. Standing in my strapless bra and thong, I’m glad I trimmed and waxed and buffed things to a shine. I reach behind my back to unclasp my bra letting it fall forward. He draws in a sharp breath, reaching to cup my breasts. His thumbs rubbing, tugging make me gasp. Make me hot. With trembling fingers, I pull at his buttons until his shirt is open and then on the floor. His belt and pants and briefs follow, and with every inch of him revealed, I want more. More kisses, more time, more of this man I’ve never had and always wanted.
Years in the field, chasing stories, climbing rough terrain—whatever in his life has kept his body hard and beautifully defined—I’m grateful. He lays me down on the bed, takes my breast into his mouth, dusts kisses down my stomach, coaxes my legs wide and puts his mouth on me. I reach over my head, sinking my nails into the softness of a pillow. He licks and laves and loves between my legs until I explode. I moan, a helpless sound for a voiceless feeling. I cannot articulate how right it feels stretched out for him on the cool sheets as I come undone. Unspooled.
Quickly he reaches to the floor and grabs a condom from his pants, then wraps up. When he climbs back over me, I grab his face and spread kisses all over his cheeks, opening my mouth over his, tasting myself and his passion. I can’t remember the last time I felt this spent and free. He hovers above me, naked and strong and ready.
“You okay?” he rasps, obviously forcing himself to go slow, to wait.
“Yes. I’m ready.” I lean up to kiss the strong column of his neck, my laugh short and raspy. “It feels like I’ve been ready twenty years.”
He cups my face, brushes my lips with his thumb, one arm propped above my head as he peers down at me. “It seems like this should have happened a long time ago, but I think our timing is perfect.”