Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
My heart pounds furiously, my skin burning everywhere he touches, and I hate him - god, I hate him for being right.
But his hand pulls away, leaving me cool and empty, and I barely manage to bite back the noise of frustration that threatens to escape.
Before I can even think to protest, his wet fingers slip beneath the thin straps of my silk dress, dragging them down my shoulders with infuriating slowness.
His gaze rakes over me like he’s taking his time memorising every inch of exposed skin, like he’s trying to sear himself into my bones. His knuckles ghost along my collarbone, and I shiver beneath him, my resolve slipping further and further away.
My own hands roam over him, yanking at the buttons of his shirt, frustrated by how much fabric is still between us. He pushes my dress further down, exposing my skin to the cool air and his burning gaze.
“Of course,” he murmurs when he realises I’m not wearing a bra, his fingers ghosting down my ribs to settle possessively at my waist.
“Shut up,” I breathe, though the unevenness in my voice gives me away.
The smirk I feel against my skin says everything - and I loathe how much I love this.
“You know,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement as he drags his lips to my ear. “You never did say if this was why you’ve been so rude to me.”
I scowl, lifting my hips in a desperate attempt for friction, but his hands tighten around me, holding me down effortlessly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snap.
His lips brush my jaw, his nose skimming my cheek. “No?”
I shake my head, even as I feel his fingers tease the lace of my panties all over again.
“You’re still lying to yourself, chérie,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “But your body?”
His fingers slip beneath the fabric once more, and I swear, my whole world tilts.
“Your body doesn’t lie.”
I arch against him, a sharp inhale catching in my throat as his touch turns from teasing to devastating.
“Freddie -” I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“That’s it,” he whispers, his forehead dropping to my temple, his fingers working over me with infuriating precision. “Say my name again.”
I bite my lip as I shake my head, and he chuckles as his fingers slow to the lightest, laziest movements, barely giving me what I need.
“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes, his free hand trailing down my side, gripping my waist like he owns me. “Tell me, or I’ll stop again.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
His smirk is slow and wicked, and before I can process what’s happening, he does stop.
He withdraws his hand completely, leaving me panting, aching and furious - again.
“Try me.”
Oh, fuck him.
“Frederic,” I grit out, dragging my nails down his back in frustration. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” he murmurs, dragging his thumb along my swollen bottom lip. “You love this.”
I don’t know if it’s the way he’s looking at me, or the unbearable ache he’s left me with, but something inside finally snaps.
I grab his shirt in both hands and yank him back down, crashing my mouth onto his.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he mutters against my lips.
I let out a breathy, shaky laugh. “Oh, I think I do.”
Frederic growls, one hand sliding up my thigh and gripping hard, while the other tilts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Tell me this is what you’ve wanted,” he rasps. “Since the moment you saw me at that airport. Tell me.”
I shake my head, refusing to give in so easily, but the moment his fingers slide higher, the moment his grip tightens on my jaw, I feel myself falter.
“Tell me, Poppy.”
Fuck. It’s dangerous how much I like the way my name sounds coming from his lips.
“Nothing to say?” he muses, his fingers pressing deeper into my thigh, making it impossible to ignore the fact that I’m completely at his mercy right now. “You’re never this quiet.”
“Maybe I just don’t want to give you the satisfaction,” I bite out, lifting my chin defiantly.
His eyes darken.
Oh.
Oh, I pushed him.
His grip on my thigh tightens, his body pressing harder into mine, and my breath catches when I feel exactly how much he wants this.
“Pity,” he says, his voice like silk-wrapped sin. “Because I’m going to take it anyway.”
And then his mouth is back on mine - a hot, urgent, full-blown assault on my senses as his fingers thread into my hair, angling my face exactly how he wants it, how he needs it.
It’s rough, unyielding, and fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this consumed in my life.
His touch is heated and relentless as his body presses into mine, his hips rolling in the perfect, punishing rhythm that has my thighs trembling around him.
“Merde,” he mutters, his breath ragged, voice laced with something that makes my stomach flip.