Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“No fucking good.”
“You couldn’t even make your daddy stay.”
I begin to push Matt’s arm away. I swore I’d never be like her, like my mother. But maybe the apple didn’t really fall far from the tree.
“Stop.” Matt presses the reprimand to my cheek, his hold on me tightening. “Whatever’s going on in that head of yours needs to stop, because I’m not letting you go.”
I say his name. It sounds like a plea as my fingers tighten on his arm, as though I could transfer my thoughts and fears, make him understand by touch. “You don’t know me.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“You only see what you want to see, because you’re too good.”
“Good. Nice.” There’s an edge to his words as his teeth graze my earlobe. “I thought I would’ve convinced you otherwise last night. Convinced you thoroughly. I wasn’t being nice, and I wasn’t being gentlemanly, when I pushed you to your knees. Or when I painted my adoration over these.” He palms my breasts, rolling the hardened buds of my nipples between his fingertips.
This time, his name is all sigh and no protest, the pleasured pain of his touch drowning everything else out.
“It’s possession, Ryan. I want you. Want to keep you. And I will, because the truth of it is, I already own a part of you. Just as you own a part of me.” His hand slips between my legs, pleasure coiling instantly at the connection, my mind going hazy around the edges.
“If you think we’re going back to how things were, you’re wrong. I know you’re worried, that you’re scared, but just be with me. Time will work out the rest.”
My traitorous clit gives a needy pulse as his fingers find it, my body convulsing with his slippery pinch.
“You’re in my life and in my head, darlin’. Don’t try to tell me I’m alone in that.”
I reach up behind me, pulling his mouth to my neck, the brush of his stubble setting me aflame. I want this. I want him. Now and always. But I’ll settle for what I can steal right now.
Go away, sunshine. Bring back the night.
“I do love you,” I whisper, rocking into his touch. Please don’t hate me later.
“Fuck the rest, teacup. Just be here with me. Tell me what you need.”
You, my heart bleeds.
You, my pulse pounds.
But not a sound do I allow from my mouth.
“This is what I think about when you’re not around.” His words are a lick of heat. “Nights alone with my cock in my hand, I think of this pussy, warm and wet, waiting for me.”
Everything pulls tight at the confession, the husky quality of his admission.
“This body.”
I inhale sharply as he hooks my leg.
“This face.”
I’m so slick and ready for this, the satin glide of him making us both moan.
“This . . .”
I cry out as he anchors us together with his first thrust.
“. . . heart.”
My hand still hooked around his neck, I pull him close so he can’t see my tears.
“Te sientes jodidamente bien. You feel so fucking good,” he groans in my ear. “So tight. Te amo con locura. Ryan, I fucking love you.” His lips lay claim to my neck as his words break my heart.
He cups my breast, his other hand sinking lower to swipe tight circles around my clit. The undulation of his hips, our bodies locked and rocking together. My fingers twisting in the sheets.
“I won’t let you go.”
Go away, sunshine. Let him lie to me a little more.
“Tell me that you hear me.”
“Yes.” A whisper as a sweet agony ripples through my insides.
“Yes,” he echoes, feeling it too. “I’ve got you, darlin’. You’re not alone anymore. You can let go.”
Chapter 38
Matt
My stomach rumbles, hunger clawing at my insides. I stretch out along the bed, the sensation flooding my arms, legs, and chest with those feel-good endorphins. I feel grand—kind of amazing, actually. Until the mattress gives under the weight of my falling hand. Instead of finding Ryan, it only finds space.
No. I swallow over the unspoken word. Not again . . .
The sheets rustle as I sit, the lack of noise the first thing I notice. I throw my legs out of bed and slip on last night’s pants, extra careful with the zipper. No need to worry. My pocket-rocket workaholic is probably in the office.
She was more excited about decorating the office than a nursery, my brain unhelpfully supplies as I make my way into the hallway. It doesn’t mean anything. Anything other than she’s been in the world alone for so long her leaps of faith are just hard earned.
But that’s behind us now. She loves me. And with my body, heart, and soul, I’ll always be hers.
There’s no sign of her in her office, so I make my way downstairs. And down again.
Relief I didn’t think I needed floods my nervous system as I find her in the kitchen. And my barefoot approach means I get to watch her for a moment without her noticing. Her back to me, she hardly looks pregnant. Hair piled haphazardly on top of her head, slim shoulders, and that heart-shaped arse. She’s wearing my shirt from last night—best realization of the morning—plus a pair of pale leggings. Bent at the waist, she appears to be poring over the book Letty gifted her.