Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I shiver, his words sinking into my skin, wishing I could hear them for the first time all over again.
He pulls down the bodice of my dress. His gaze drops, drinking in every inch of me. His fingertips trace the stretch marks on my hips before tending to the soft curve of my stomach.
My eyes follow his hands . . . My tiger stripes now feel more illuminated than ever. It isn’t like he hasn’t seen my body before, but under the golden lamplight of my bedroom, they’re on full display. Without thinking, I rest my forearms over them.
He moves them immediately and drinks me in along with a long, slow breath and a steady gaze.
“I hope you know,” he begins, fingers ghosting over the lines, “that I fucking love these. Not only is your body a work of art, it brought a life into this world. You’re a woman in every sense of the word and it drives me crazy.”
I bite my lip, watching him, my chest tightening at how reverent he looks—like I’m some masterpiece he’s been waiting his whole life to see. The first time Nick saw them, he had a micro-visceral reaction. When I pointed it out, he assured me they didn’t bother him, but his eyes told a different story. After that, he only ever wanted to make love in the dark. If only I’d put it all together earlier . . .
Hunter’s hands are everywhere—rough and insistent, like he can’t decide where to touch first. The hem of my dress is still bunched around my waist, my panties now pushed aside. He palms my hips like he owns them, like I’m his to ruin, his to devour.
And then he’s between my thighs, the heat of his mouth demanding, reverent.
I fall back on my elbows, my breath catching as his tongue drags slow, delicious strokes that make my legs tremble around his shoulders. He holds me open, his grip commanding and steady, like he wants to make sure I don’t squirm away—not that I’d ever dream of it.
“Hunter,” I gasp, my hips tilting toward him, chasing the friction.
He groans against me, the sound sending a vibration straight through my core. I’m already close, already aching, and he knows it. He flattens his tongue, teasing the spot that makes me shudder, then pulls back just enough to look up at me.
“You taste so fucking good,” he whispers, lips glistening. “I think you should cancel your plans and let me spend all night right here, between your thighs, working this gorgeous fucking pussy.”
His words are gasoline on an already burning fire.
He dives back in, hungrier this time, his tongue circling, his mouth sucking just right. My body tenses, the orgasm inching closer, faster, and I can’t catch my breath.
“God—Hunter—just like that—” I breathe.
My body tightens, the pressure snapping as I come hard against his mouth, my back arching, a strangled cry slipping out before I can stop it.
He doesn’t let up—not until I’m trembling, too sensitive, pulling at his hair, begging him to stop.
When he finally rises to his feet, his grin is smug, his eyes dark with heat.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he says, voice thick. “We’re just getting started.”
I don’t argue. I crawl to the center of the messy bed, discarding what’s left of my now-wrinkled dress and panties, my skin flushed, my wetness still throbbing. I watch as he strips, his body all sharp lines and solid muscle, every inch of him chiseled like he was built for hard labor—and for me.
He climbs onto the bed, his hands roaming my thighs, my hips, my stomach. He traces the faint stretch marks there, too, his touch gentle, his eyes locked on mine.
Hunter murmurs something that sounds like pleasure, his thumb brushing one of the lines.
I swallow hard, my throat tight. No one’s ever looked at me like this before. Like every part of me—every so-called flaw—is something to behold.
“You’re so goddamn stunning, Wren,” he says, his gaze worshipful. “Every inch of you. Every freckle. Every scar. Every curve. Every mark. Every angle. Every line.”
His words make me dizzy and warm. I pull him close, kissing him deep, tasting myself on his tongue. He pins me, pressing me into the mattress, his body heavy and hot, his cock hard against my thigh.
“Condom,” I whisper, breathless.
He reaches for his wallet on the nightstand, tears one open, rolls it on. Then he’s between my legs, his eyes never leaving mine.
I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him closer.
He pushes into me slow, inch by inch, until I’m stretched full, gasping at the perfect pressure, the perfect fit. We stay like that for a beat—still, connected, eyes locked. The air between us is thick, charged, like we’re both waiting for the other to say something, to break the spell.