Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“I blackmailed you—”
“Because my sister conned you first,” I point out helplessly.
“But I should never have gotten you involved.”
“You’re only human. Emotions can get the better of us—”
“Do you even hear yourself?” he growls. “We both know I’m the one who’s in the wrong—”
“Our marriage might not be normal, but you’ve always been kind to me.”
“If I’m so kind, I should’ve let you go—”
My face loses all color.
“From the moment I realized—” Gavine breaks off. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You want to let me go?” I whisper unevenly. “If I’ve caused too much trouble—”
My words come to a halt when Gavine grabs my shoulders like he’s about to shake some sense into me.
“I’m bad news for you, dammit! Can’t you see that?”
“No.”
“Then what do you see?”
Oh, if only I could answer that. The truth is too embarrassing, too revealing.
“Tell me.”
“I can’t—”
“Tell me or I swear I’ll punish you.”
“H-How?”
His gaze rakes over my body with unmistakable heat. “How do you think?”
The dangerous glint in his eyes makes my pulse stutter. His gaze is darker than I’ve ever seen it, and the way he’s looking at me...like he wants to devour me whole.
“Gavine,” I whisper.
“You’re sick—”
I shake my head frantically.
“You’re insane to want me—”
I don’t care.
“But those violet eyes of yours are telling me you’re stubborn enough not to give a damn.”
My heart slams against my chest when his hand suddenly cups my nape, his thumb stroking along my pulse point.
“If I touch you—” His voice is strained, like he’s fighting some internal battle. “I still can’t promise it won’t change anything.”
“I don’t care.” This time, I say it out loud, and his lips slowly twist in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“So be it.”
His mouth crashes against mine before I can answer. The desperate hunger in his kiss steals my breath. It’s angry and raw, like he’s punishing both of us for wanting this.
But I don’t care.
I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks, and reality is so much better than any fantasy my inexperienced mind could create.
His hands frame my face as he deepens the kiss, and I hear myself make a sound that should probably embarrass me. Instead, it seems to snap the last thread of his control. He pulls back just far enough to look at me, his breathing harsh.
“Tell me to stop.”
“No.”
“Wednesday—”
“Please.” The word comes out broken, needy. “Please don’t stop.”
The conflict in his eyes transforms into pure, predatory determination. When he kisses me again, it’s different. This time it’s slower, more deliberate, like he’s memorizing the taste of me.
His mouth trails down my throat, finding that sensitive spot where my pulse hammers wildly. “You’re trembling,” he murmurs against my skin, and the vibration of his voice makes me shiver.
I’m dimly aware that he’s being careful with me, his touches gentle but sure as he maps every inch of exposed skin. When his fingers find the buttons of my nightgown, he pauses, looking into my eyes.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
I shake my head frantically. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He makes quick work of the buttons, but then slows down again, his hands reverent as he pushes the fabric aside. The way he looks at me like I’m something miraculous makes me feel beautiful instead of embarrassed.
“So damn perfect,” he breathes, and I believe him completely.
His mouth follows the path his hands have traced, pressing kisses to my collarbone, the valley between my breasts, the soft skin of my stomach. Each touch sends sparks through my nervous system, and I’m already trembling before he’s even really begun.
“Gavine,” I whisper, not sure what I’m asking for.
“I know, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”
And he does.
Oh, he does.
His hands and mouth work in perfect harmony, building a tension inside me that I didn’t even know was possible. Every caress is deliberate, designed to drive me higher, and when his fingers finally find that most sensitive part of me, I cry out in shock at the intensity.
“Easy,” he soothes, his voice rough with desire. “Let me get you ready for me.”
Ready for what, I want to ask, but then his fingers move in a way that has my back arching off the bed, and coherent thought becomes impossible.
He takes his time preparing me, building me up and bringing me to the edge again and again until I’m sobbing his name and clinging to his shoulders. Only then does he position himself above me, his eyes never leaving mine.
“This is going to hurt,” he warns, his jaw tight with the effort of holding back.
“I don’t care,” I manage to say. “I want this. I want you.”
He enters me slowly, so slowly, giving my body time to adjust. There is pain, a sharp, burning sensation that makes me gasp, but it’s overshadowed by the incredible feeling of being joined with him, of belonging to this man I love so desperately.