Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
He fucks me with a kind of possessive intensity that leaves no room for doubt. He's marking me, claiming the space I tried to keep for myself, and the most terrifying part is how much I want him to do it. I want to be his. I want to forget that I spent my whole life fighting for a room of my own just to realize that a room is empty without the right person in it. The friction builds, a white-hot tension coiling in my gut until I'm begging him for more, my voice sounding like a stranger's in the quiet room.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice strained as he pounds into me, his chest brushing against my breasts with every downward stroke. I open my eyes, meeting his gaze, and the sheer adoration I see there is enough to steal the rest of my heart.
Before I know it, waves of pleasure crash over me until I'm screaming his name, my pussy clamping down on him in tight, frantic pulses.
Hudson lets out a low, guttural sound and thrusts once more, burying himself as deep as possible as he explodes inside me. We stay like that for a long time, tangled in the sheets and the sweat and the sheer gravity of what we've done. The air in the room slowly cools, but the heat between us remains, a low-frequency hum that suggests this was only the beginning of our morning.
"Wow," I whisper against his neck after several minutes of shared, heavy breathing. My voice is still shaky, my body feeling like it's been rearranged on a cellular level.
"You can say that again," he says, kissing the top of my head and stroking the damp hair away from my forehead. My body feels like he’s broken it down and rebuilt it from atoms, but the way Hudson wraps himself around me after, pulling me flat to his chest like I’m the only thing in the world that matters, makes everything inside me go soft and achy and completely unguarded.
For a minute, neither of us says anything. I listen to his heartbeat, heavy and slow. I memorize the rough skin of his arm draped over my waist, the aftershock tremors still moving through us. His lips touch my temple, slow and tender, and my ribs squeeze tight enough it almost hurts.
“I’m in love with you,” he whispers against my ear, shocking the hell out of me. He keeps going, his mouth brushing my hair. “I fell for you the very first day you made me wait in the goddamn Montoya lobby.” His arms flex hard around me, like if he holds on tight enough, he’ll keep me from slipping away.
Everything inside me starts to shake. I want to say something, anything, but all I can do is turn and look at him. The look in those hazel eyes is raw enough to strip all my defenses bare.
My heart hammers so loud I’m sure he can hear it. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out except air. A thought suddenly hits me right between the eyes. I just want him.
I take a deep, shaky breath and admit, “I love you, too.” I force myself to keep looking at him, to own it. “I love you so much it freaking scares the shit out of me.”
Hudson surges forward and pulls me in, one hand fisting in my hair and the other pressed flat against the small of my back, and I feel the full weight of him, his heartbeat against my sternum, the ragged warmth of his exhale against my lips before they meet mine. The kiss is rough and slow at once, his mouth moving like he is trying to memorize me.
Hudson breaks away for half a second, his brow pressed to mine, breathing hard. “You fucking destroy me, Tinsley. You know that?”
I want to tease him, toss out something sharp about emotional devastation, but all my bones have turned to marshmallow fluff and there’s a tremor in my voice when I say, “Good.” Because it is. There’s something wild and amazing about knowing I can get under his skin the way he gets under mine.
His hands cradle my face, rough thumb stroking my cheek like I’m the most breakable thing in the world and the only thing holding him together. And the way he looks at me right now? I could live off it.
“You’re never getting rid of me,” he says, dead serious.
I don’t want to get rid of him. Not ever.
Instead of saying it out loud, I press my mouth to the sharp line of his jaw. His stubble is a burn, and I love it, love the way he shudders when I nip at the scar over his eyebrow. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me, too.”
“Good.” He smiles at me, and my girly bits wake up and sing.