Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I blinked, then let out a breathless laugh. “You’re cold?”
“No, I’m fucking frozen,” she huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “I was trying to be sexy, but my nipples almost iced off halfway through, and I panicked.”
My brows shot up, but the laughter bubbled out anyway. I rolled up my sleeve, stuck my arm into the air above us, and winced. Yeah. The chill was worse than I’d realized.
“It’s colder than it should be,” I said, frowning. “I wond—”
And right then, the world decided to prove its point. Every bit of ambient light—the clock, the nightlight, the faint glow from outside—snapped off, plunging the room into sudden, complete darkness.
Sayla went still on top of me. “Oh… that’s not good,” she whispered, her voice echoing slightly in the void around us. I saw her silhouette shift as her head turned toward the windows. “What do we do?”
I exhaled slowly and reached up to touch her waist. “Absolutely nothing.”
It was reckless—maybe stupid. The power had gone out, the generator wasn’t humming, and it was getting colder by the minute. But all of that could wait. Right now, Sayla was here. Her body was warm against mine, her breath feathering against my neck, her heartbeat thudding right in sync with my own.
Whatever the storm outside had in store for us—it could wait.
I pushed up from the mattress and wrapped my arms around her, locking Sayla in place as I rolled us over, reversing our positions in one smooth, sudden move. She gasped, surprised, and her fingers clutched at my shoulders, breath hitching as I settled over her, my weight pressing her into the bed.
Then, without giving her—or myself—any time to think, I leaned down, aiming for her mouth.
I missed. Instead of lips, I face-planted into the damn pillow, my chin bumping awkwardly against her collarbone.
“Fuck my luck,” I muttered into the bedding, my voice muffled and annoyed.
Sayla burst out laughing—soft, breathy, and beautiful. Her hands found my face in the dark, fingertips warm and searching. When she located my mouth, she guided me in with a quiet urgency, pulling me down until our lips finally met.
There was nothing tentative about her kiss.
It was needy. Hot. A little wild.
The kind of kiss that felt like it had been waiting to happen for far too long.
She kissed me like she was trying to burn the doubt out of us, and I met her with everything I had. My hand fisted in the sheets beside her head as her legs suddenly wrapped around my waist—tight, holding me there, as if she thought I might pull away.
Not a fucking chance in hell.
Bracing myself on one elbow, I let my other hand slip between us. This time, I gripped the hem of her hoodie—both layers this time, determined not to repeat the earlier disappointment—and began sliding them upward. Inch by inch, the fabric gave way beneath my fingers until I felt the soft brush of her skin.
My knuckles skimmed the swell of her breast, and then—
There. Her nipple dragged against the top of my hand, and I felt her entire body shiver beneath me.
I broke the kiss with effort, panting against her lips as I trailed slow, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck. Her breath came faster, catching when I licked the hollow of her throat, tasting the faint trace of soap and the sharp edge of anticipation on her skin.
But then I hit resistance again. A soft wall of bunched fabric pressed between us like a goddamn insult.
“Fucking storm,” I muttered under my breath.
Sayla chuckled, breathless, but the sound died off in a sharp gasp the moment I found her nipple through the gap in the clothes and closed my mouth around it.
I sucked it into the heat of my mouth, my tongue circling and teasing as my hand slipped up to support her other breast. She arched beneath me, her fingers tangling in my hair, her hips grinding up ever so slightly, searching for friction, for contact, for more.
And I was ready to give her everything.
My hand slid down her side, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of her until my fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her thick leggings. The fabric was warm from her body, but I still cursed it—and the damn storm that had her dressing like we were camping on an ice field.
I expected to find the barrier of underwear next, but instead, I got bare skin. Warm, soft, smooth.
I stilled, breath catching in my throat, my fingertips grazing over the curve of her hipbone. Sayla didn’t flinch. She just parted her legs a little wider, granting me access with the kind of silent confidence that had blood rushing straight to my cock.
I released her nipple from my mouth with a wet pop and trailed the tip of my tongue down the slope of her stomach, slow and teasing, my other hand joining the first to help peel away her clothes.