Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“How often do you come through here?”
Well, shit.
“Often enough.”
“Archer!” she cries, frustration stamped all over her pretty little face. “You come by here just to check on me, don’t you?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“How often?”
I hesitate. One second. Two. “Don’t ask questions you aren’t ready to hear the answers to, Wren,” I finally murmur, my voice soft. “You might not like them.” It’s a confession and warning all wrapped in one. Not a lie…but not the truth, either. It’s the place in between, the one that gives me a little room and a little time.
Christ, I need time.
She stares at me, her lips slightly parted, stunned, I think. But she doesn’t shrink from the truth. She just…nods. And I want to haul her onto my lap and pour my secrets into her.
Would she run if she knew?
“Okay,” she whispers, the tip of her tongue peeking from between her lips. She doesn’t ask again. But she knows that I’m here every goddamn chance I get. I see it written all over her face.
“You ready to go get your shit?”
Apparently, that’s the wrong question to ask because sweet little Wren turns into a sassy little fire-breathing dragon before my eyes.
“First of all, do not refer to my things as shit,” she says, those gray eyes narrowing as her chin comes up. “I don’t call your equipment crap.”
I grin, unable to help myself. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Second…no! No, I am not ready to get my things.”
“Keep emphasizing the word like that, little bird, and we’re going to be giving your neighbors a show.”
She unlatches her seatbelt with careful intention before letting it retract back into the frame. I watch with an amused grin on my face as she leans down, searching beneath her seat with one hand.
“If you’re looking for a weapon, there isn’t one down there.”
“Don’t need one to murder you,” she says sweetly as her seat slides back. “I plan to do it with my own two hands.” She turns on me, eyes narrowed, determination written all over her face. And my goddamn cock throbs. It only throbs harder when she lunges across the console at me, hands extended like she really thinks she has a chance in hell of getting them around my throat before I get mine on her.
I grab her, hauling her onto my lap.
Her ass lands against my thighs as my lips come down on hers in a wild kiss. I pour everything into it—obsession, desire, everything.
She whimpers against my lips, tugging my hair like she did when I was between her legs this morning with my face buried in her pretty little cunt.
“If you’re going to kill me, baby,” I murmur, “at least let me make one final meal out of you first. Every condemned man gets to eat.” Between her legs is the closest to heaven I’ll ever get. If there’s a way to go, that right there is it. No questions about it.
“Shut up and kiss me again, husband.”
Oh. Fuck. Me.
I buck my hips, growling as a blast of pure fucking bliss rips through me. Maybe she meant to be a smartass when she said it, but there’s no hiding the possessiveness in her tone, like she means that shit. Like she’s claiming ownership of me right here in my car.
She’s playing dirty.
“You’re trying to get yourself fucked dirty in front of your neighbors, aren’t you?” I mutter, nipping her bottom lip before I kiss the hell out of her again. My hands are all over her ass. Of course they are. Where the fuck else would they be? I’ve been dreaming about this perfect, gorgeous, round ass for a year. I’m not going to stop touching it anytime soon.
“Maybe I’m just trying to get myself fucked,” she whispers.
I close my eyes. Count to three.
“What are you doing?” she asks, amusement in her tone.
“Trying not to come in my pants like a goddamn teenager,” I growl. “My wife is on my lap, asking me to fuck her. I can still taste you on my tongue, Wren. I still hear your little whimpers ringing in my ears. I’m a man on the edge right now.”
“Oh, yeah?” There’s no hiding the smile in her voice. She loves knowing that. Her lips touch my jaw before wandering lower. “Maybe I should send you over then, Archer.”
I don’t think she even realizes just how close she is to doing exactly that. Her teeth rake down my throat and I shove my hands into the back of her pants to squeeze her ass.
“Wren…” I intend her name to be a warning. It comes out like a plea.
“I like you desperate, Archer.” She flicks her tongue against my skin, tasting me. “I like the way your breath hitches, and your voice gets all raspy.”
“Boarding. Charging. Interference. Hooking. Hold–”
She pulls back to look at me, one brow arched. “What are you doing?”