Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Can’t. Have to wash myself.” His hand trails down to his fully erect cock, and I swallow. Hard.
Nope. I literally have to force myself out of this room, or I won’t come back from this. I cling to the only rational brain cell left and go to push past him. His laughter bounces around the shower as he blocks my way. And trying to move him would be like trying to move a mountain, so instead, I defiantly glare up at him, a move that has been known to make men whither within seconds. I shove at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. My fingers then trail against the heat of his skin and the hardness of his muscles. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Remove your hands, Ivy.
This is Hawke, remember?
No touchy…
I’m internally screaming at myself, but my mind and body aren’t cooperating.
“I’d like to have that mouth all over me,” he says. And when I look back up at his face, I see he’s staring at my lips.
A flash of the woman who was sucking him off not even an hour ago comes to mind, and I shove him hard enough this time to make him take a step back. “Fuck. Off.”
“If you get me off,” he retorts as I step out of his reach.
He continues washing himself as he watches me grab a towel and wrap it around myself. This asshole really isn’t getting the memo.
Fine, I can teach him a lesson.
I head into the kitchen and open the pantry. I’m not much of a cook, but Billie has left plenty behind, and a devilish smile paints my lips as I reach for the first item I see. From what I’ve heard, Hawke might be tough and able to fight off multiple men at once, but let’s see how he gets out of this.
I hide the item behind my back as I walk back into the bathroom with a sweet smile plastered on my face.
“Knew you couldn’t stay away,” he says, reaching for me. But before he can get his hands on me, I douse him in cooking oil. He seems shocked at first, but then his gaze hardens. He reaches out again, this time to grab the bottle still leaking oil. The moment he shifts, he loses his footing and falls to his ass. Hard.
An ugly snort escapes me as I bend over laughing. Tears stream down my face as I try to avoid stepping into the puddle of oil. I can’t even see from how hard I’m laughing, and before I can wipe the tears away, a hard body slams into mine, and I slip. I anticipate the worst, trying to catch myself, expecting my head to crack on the tiles. But it’s only my tailbone that hits hard. When I open my eyes, I notice his hands are cupping the back of my head, taking the impact. He’s half on top of me now, my ass numb from the fall.
“You think that’s funny?” he teases. I try to give him my angriest expression, but I snort and break into a fit of laughter again. I will never forget him looking like a baby giraffe on ice, hands, and legs in the air as his hard dick strained in the wind while he fell. I try to wipe away the tears, but they keep coming. “You can stop laughing now. What if my dick was hurt during one of those falls?” he grumbles.
“Maybe you’ll have to rely on your head instead of your dick, then,” I say, still laughing. When my laughter begins to recede, I realize how intently he’s watching me. “What?” I barely manage to say because he looks serious. Is he really that mad? Okay, sure, it was an asshole thing to do, but it’s Hawke. And besides, he broke into my home.
“I like it when you laugh. Maybe next time, not at the expense of my cock, though.”
I bite my bottom lip, trying to hold in the next fit of laughter. Heat fills the room, and it has nothing to do with the hot shower still running behind him.
I feel his callused hand gliding up my wet nightgown. My heartbeat picks up speed, and I hyperfocus on his touch as it glides higher, his gaze unwavering. My thighs open of their own volition as I suck in a breath, anticipating all the things I know this man can offer. I feel stupid now for resisting it for so long because I know how he can make me feel. I know how my body will come undone.
His hand curves around my thigh, and I steady my breathing as I feel the brush of his thumb against my clit. It’s just a graze, but intentional enough to have me begging for more, which I refuse to do.
“Do you want me to slide that nightie up and fuck you?” he asks with a slow-spreading smirk that implies he thinks he’s already won.