Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“I have no plans to sleep.” His voice is low and dark, licking across my skin.
I shiver, and his answering half smile should piss me off. But there’s so much intent in it that wings flutter through my abdomen . . . and lower. Much lower. I press my lips together, tight, to keep from whimpering. “Sex is off the table,” I whisper.
“How about over the bed?”
Over the bed. Not on the bed. Not in the bed. But bent over the bed. My core screams a holy yes while I shake my head. “No.”
He clasps my jaw between a roughened thumb and finger. “I know when a woman wants me, Rosalie.” He says my name like he’s tasting heaven.
I’m sure every woman within a two-mile radius wants this man, just from the pheromones zinging around. “You want my brain and not my body. Trust me.”
“I’ll possess both.”
Who says that? Seriously. “You get neither.” I look up, meeting his gaze evenly, instantly wishing I hadn’t.
His eyes are black pools of intrigue and desire along with warning. “Your choice.” He releases me and turns his back, pulling the T-shirt over his head. He flings it to the chair, revealing hard muscle and several scars down his strong back. Knife wounds, whip marks, and other scars I can’t identify—including a fresh one on his shoulder. My vagina rolls over and moans. That fucking bitch. She needs to crave safety and not . . . this. Whatever this is.
I glance at the bed. “You are not staying here.”
He turns, his hands already unzipping his jeans. “Then call your ancient boarders for help, and we’ll get this over with now. I’ll try not to harm them too badly, but I can’t guarantee all seven will survive.”
My knees tremble. There’s too much trembling, shuddering, and vibrating throughout my entire body right now—with different feelings and emotions attached. He knows more about me and mine than I like.
He tosses the pants, leaving himself in black boxer briefs that are filled out. I mean seriously filled out. His gaze softens. Slightly. “I’m tired, Rosalie. It’s been a long seven years, and the next couple of months aren’t going to be any sort of picnic. Get your sweet ass in that bed, and I promise, this once, I won’t touch you tonight. Won’t even tempt you.”
The man tempts me just by existing. “Fine.” I’m too tired to fight him. But I’ll cover myself with heavy vanilla scented lotion while preparing for bed. I’m sure that will mask his scent and send those pheromones fleeing. “You’ll love my winter pajamas. I find them in the great-grandma aisle at the women’s shelter.”
NINE
Rosalie
Pleasure drowns me, and I moan, every nerve in my entire body shooting electricity. Colors and mysterious shapes flash in front of my eyes. I gasp, on fire. Somehow, I’m flying. The smell of motor oil battered by pelting rain fills my senses.
A sound awakens me, and my eyelids flip open even as another moan escapes from my chest. I jerk awake, gyrating against fingers playing with my clit. My pajama bottoms and panties are gone, and I’m bare to the cool air. “Oh God,” I whisper, the blood rushing through my head so fast, my ears ring. I partially roll to face Alexei. The breath bursts out of my lungs, and I grab onto his biceps, digging my nails in. “What are you doing?” I gasp, my head spinning, my nipples sharpened to fine points beneath the thin camisole top.
“Playing.” His eyes are liquid coal just lit with flames.
I gulp. Where’s the sweatshirt I had worn to bed? “Stop.”
“You don’t want me to stop.” To punctuate his point, he scrapes his calloused thumb across my clit.
I jolt, head to toe, pleasure ripping through my body. The wetness spilling from me, onto his hand, will embarrass me later. Not now. My traitorous body moves against him, seeking relief. I can’t think. “You—you said you wouldn’t touch me.”
“Last night,” he whispers, sliding another finger inside me. “And I didn’t.”
I’m strung tight like a bow about to break. This is wrong. I know it is. Yet my body doesn’t care. Something bad has never felt this good. I should stop him. My hands drop from his body.
His chuckle licks along my skin, right before his tongue does the same, marking from my collarbone, up my neck, and over my chin. “You taste delicious. I want more.” His fingers scissor inside me, slamming against a spot I’m just realizing actually exists. My eyes roll back, and I whimper, pleasure swamping me.
This isn’t fair.
I can’t think. Trying to force my brain to work, I note my nails digging into the sheet on one side of my gyrating body and the other into . . . his bare leg. The muscles are bunched beneath my hand, rough cut and strong. The length of his cock, even inside his boxers, is heated against the side of my hand. Oh God.