Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Then… finish,” she says, staring at me with those wide sunshine eyes.
I’m going to have to focus on my work. It’s going to take thirty minutes. That’s if I hustle. The whole time, she’s going to be watching me, aiming her camera, making me ache.
CHAPTER 16
ELARA
Pretending with him feels too good.
I study him through the camera lens, my body sparking as hotly as my artistic desire. He walks around the perimeter, motion sensors in his hands, a stern look on his face. Whenever he glances my way, his body flexes, abs going tight, chest bulging.
He shoots me longing looks, making me think he’s working hard not to run over here. I press my legs together, knowing this is a mess, that it might go wrong again. But the heat between my legs is volcanic. My bra rubs against my nipples as if he’s somehow using it to taunt me.
Finding the light is not at all difficult right now.
I snap another photo.
He leans down to plant a sensor, then looks at me over his shoulder, a knowing smirk on his face. It takes me a second to realize what he’s doing. When it hits me, I burst out laughing, then cover my mouth because I don’t want to wake Mira. He’s pulling the same pose I did in the gym.
He stands, raising his hands. “Was that a douchebag move? For the record, you looked about a hundred times hotter.”
The sun glistens and bounces off his abs. I know I shouldn’t be obsessing, should try to play it cool… whenever I’ve thought about a man, which is hardly ever, I’ve never imagined wanting to give anyone power over me.
But with Rhett, I want him to have it.
“The only douchebag move was not letting me get a picture.”
“Oh, sorry.”
He grins and returns to his position. I take the shot. When he returns to his work, I squeeze my legs together, a hot flush creeping over me. I want it, him, us. That’s the truth. Even after the bombshell he dropped on me.
My mind is a mess with everything apart from the raw physical hunger. But what if those awful intrusive thoughts happen again? And what if, just by thinking about them possibly happening, I’ve triggered something…
Get out of your head!
He steps back, shielding the sun with his hand, looking down at his work. The muscles across his back are tight and hard looking. I want to sink my hand into them, feel how firm he is, feel him aching with desire for me. I let a smile touch my lips. This is such a rush. Like a rollercoaster ride, and I don’t know when the drop’s coming.
He walks toward the porch, winking at me. “Get enough photos?”
“Is it done?” I ask.
He nods. “No one’s getting close without us knowing about it,” he says. “And if they do…”
I walk down the steps. His shoulders are trembling slightly, the muscles in his forearms pressing against his skin like he’s going to explode. He looks at me. When I see it, the bulge in his pants, I chew on my lip.
He nods and steps closer. “Look at what you do to me,” he snarls.
I sink my hands into his chest, feeling my fingernails bend. None of it matters when the heat of his firm body burns against me. He lied, and that is all tangled up with the worst day of my life, which should give me pause. But I’m seizing this moment.
“I love it,” I whisper. “How crazy I make you. I love the way you look at me. I know you joked about the gym, but that moment… it meant a lot.”
He sinks his hands into my hips as if his life depends on it. I’ve never imagined being this wanted, or allowing myself to want to be wanted. He leans in for a kiss. I think the only thing stopping him from crushing our bodies together is the camera resting between us.
Our lips collide and I caress his tongue, tasting him, feeling him moan and growl as he tastes me. He slides his hands around to my ass, then he leans back.
“We need to get out of here,” he growls. “I need you somewhere private.”
“All to yourself, huh?”
He nods, not joking, jaw clenched so hard like it might crack. “So badly.”
I turn and walk toward the house, taking his hand. I want to savor this, to relish in it. And I also want to rip off the Band-Aid so that I know we can have sex without me constantly having self-defeating thoughts.
“Meet me in there,” I murmur, nodding toward the bedroom. “I’ll just check on Mira.”
He walks by me, his hand gliding over my ass. He lingers, squeezing. I arch against him. He stares at me like he’s an addict and I’m his drug, and that makes me feel even hotter.