Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Holy crap. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, her knees automatically pressing against his flanks. Pain ticked through her and she murmured, so he deepened the kiss, taking her over, throwing her out of her mind.
He overwhelmed her, keeping her in place.
Finally, eons later, he was fully embedded inside her, his mouth still working hers, his strength obvious.
She moved, needing more. Wanting him. He more than filled her, and she wanted him to move now.
He did.
Not gently. Not hesitantly. Like a man who’d been holding back for too long and finally had permission to let go.
His hand stayed locked in her hair, the other gripping her hip with brutal control as he pulled back and drove in again, deep and deliberate. She gasped, her back arching against the wall. Slick rock met her spine, but all she felt was him, heat, power, and hunger.
He made no sound, but his body spoke loud enough. Every thrust was a declaration, every grind a confession. He wanted this. Her. All those times she’d caught him looking at her, watching her at the tavern, as if he wanted to be right here.
She had felt his intent.
The pace built fast. Each stroke carved her open and filled her back in, pushing her higher, stretching the tension tight, and then even tighter. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, then slid down his muscled chest. It was all she could do not to come apart right there.
“Christian,” she whispered, or maybe begged. She wasn’t sure. Didn’t much care.
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his breath ragged, his mouth damp from hers. “I’ve got you.”
He slammed into her now, sharp and rhythmic, the kind of force that stole thought, breath, past and future. Her body curled around him, legs trembling against his hips, held aloft only by his strength and whatever the hell this thing was between them.
Pressure built, spun, twisted. She tried to hold it. Tried to make this moment last longer. But he drove her mercilessly toward the edge, each stroke hitting some secret part of her no one else had ever found.
She shattered.
The climax wasn’t sweet or soft. It was fierce. A raw, burning contraction that shook her from the inside out. Her vision blacked at the edges, and her body seized around him with a cry torn from the deepest part of her. She might’ve said his name again. Might’ve sworn. Might’ve sobbed.
He didn’t stop. He cursed low and sharp in her ear, the sound of a man fighting for control and losing. His rhythm stuttered, then locked. One final thrust. And with a guttural growl, he followed her over, hips pressed tight, his body shaking against hers like the storm hadn’t stopped, just moved inside them.
Silence fell.
Not from peace, but from aftermath.
He held her there, pinned and panting, his face against her neck, his lips brushing a soft kiss against her jugular that spiraled down to her heart.
She swallowed and dropped her head, right between his neck and shoulder, her body shutting down. Still there, with the shower beating against him and the steam swallowing them both, with him holding her. She relaxed and fell right into a peaceful sleep.
Chapter 24
The nightmare caught Christian deep in sleep, and he stilled, eyelids slowly opening. Amka lay curled against him, her sweet butt against his groin. He listened to her breathe and settled himself, sliding from the bed and making sure to keep her covered. He snagged worn jeans from the floor and yanked them on, his skin crawling from the dream.
He had to get outside. Now.
Padding barefoot across the chilled floor, he walked outside and carefully shut the door. Fresh air and freedom smashed into him, so he made his way across the small porch to sit, resting his feet on the bottom step. One by one, he forced each muscle in his body to release. Sometimes the nightmares tightened him into a raw ball of fury, but now, he could relax. Slowly.
The rain had stopped, leaving the sky a light pink and gold as dawn arrived. Birds chirped in the distance, and water dripped from branches and eaves. He pulled in the fresh air, watching the trees, calming himself. Even so, he knew how fucked up he was right now. He had a beautiful woman with a pure heart in his bed, and he was outside, by himself.
What had he been thinking taking her like that in the shower?
He scrubbed both hands down his face, his whiskers catching his palms. He’d been too rough with her last night, and that was him exhausted after fighting the river. At full strength, or even with more than he’d had, he wasn’t gentle. Didn’t like it gentle. She deserved better. A lot. At least deserved a little foreplay, which normally he enjoyed. Not gentle, though. Not even close.