Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“Let’s just …” My skin felt like fire. “Let’s just skip dinner.”
He considered me, drawing his thumb over his bottom lip as his gaze swept over my body again. I shivered as his pale wolf eyes turned smoky.
Finally, he crossed the room to stand inches from me. He was so close I could feel the heat of him, smell that earthy sandalwood that made me want to bury my nose in his throat. Ramsay reached out and slipped his fingers beneath the right strap of my dress, his rough fingertips stroking my collarbone. “Did you wear this for me?”
I tilted my chin, something about his tone sparking my defiance. “What if I did?”
“Dress, jeans, bin bag … Whatever you wore tonight was coming off as soon as we walked in this door.” And true to his word, he grabbed the hem of the dress and I had the presence of mind to raise my arms as he yanked the material up and over my head.
He threw the dress behind him and it hit the sofa. Ramsay was too busy eating me up with his eyes to care he’d casually discarded a dress that cost more than most people’s car payments.
I stood in a lacy matching bra and panties that I’d never wear on any normal occasion. Truthfully, I was Miss Comfort when it came to underwear. Cotton briefs all the way. But I’d dug out a peachy-pink sexy number that suited my coloring. Considering his domineering attitude, it occurred to me Ramsay was probably used to women who wore overtly sexual lingerie. Perhaps Ava wore red or black lace or didn’t wear underwear at all.
Maybe my peachy-pink number was more girlish than sexy.
My jaw clenched in self-irritation as Ramsay drank in every inch of me.
I’d never been insecure about sex.
The reality was I’d slept with four men in my twenty-seven years and all of them had been disappointing. The closest I’d come to orgasming with a partner was with Hugh. My first three boyfriends were all very similar. Nice, good guys. But they’d also been very considerate during sex. Very gentle. And it wasn’t until I confessed my frustration to London that she told me that because I was kind of an alpha in life, I probably needed someone more dominant than me in bed.
So I’d gone on a date with Hugh, despite my misgivings about him.
He wasn’t particularly kind or gentle. But he was confident, self-assured. And he took what he wanted in bed. While I’d definitely been more aroused by him … he was ultimately a selfish lover. He wanted blow jobs … but he didn’t like going down on a woman.
That was fine.
Just don’t expect blow jobs in return, right?
And now here I was finally about to have sex with a man and his mere warning that he took control in the bedroom had soaked my lace panties through.
Yet, for the first time, I wondered if I wasn’t going to be what he needed.
I didn’t like that.
Suddenly, Ramsay took me by the chin and tilted my head back, his eyes searching mine. “Where did you go?”
Surprised by his perceptiveness, I moved to retreat and his grip on my chin tightened.
“Don’t lie. Not in this.”
Oh God. I didn’t want to ruin the moment between us by being honest.
“Silver … we don’t do this unless you’re absolutely certain you want to.”
I knew that without a doubt. That with Ramsay, even if he was “in control,” I’d always be the one really in control. If I said no or stop at any point, we’d stop.
I trusted him and at once realized I hadn’t trusted anyone like that since London and my parents. Not even Cammie or Quinn.
Why him? What was it about him that made me feel so goddamn safe?
“Silver.”
I could feel Ramsay withdrawing, and I wrapped my hand around his thick wrist to stop him. “I’ve never worried about not being good in bed before … because … well, quite frankly, I haven’t had the …” I sucked in a breath and bravely spat out, “I haven’t been with the right men before. I’ve maybe orgasmed once with a guy and the rest have been self-induced. Other than last night with you, I mean. Maybe it’s a me problem.”
His expression tightened.
I smirked unhappily. “I’m standing here in my underwear realizing you’re probably very experienced and …”
“And what?” Ramsay took hold of my hand that was wrapped around his other arm and gently lowered it until I cupped his arousal straining against his zipper. “I want you. You want me. Experience has nothing to do with it. Get out of your head and get in there.” He jerked his chin toward his bedroom. “Wait for me at the foot of the bed.”
The instinct to balk at his command was strong, even as arousal blossomed within me with immediate intensity. It was a confusing dichotomy and his lip curled as if he read that flash of defiance in my eyes and liked it.