Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I stopped by the door of the bathroom and turned to look at him as he started pulling clothes out of one of the dressers. It wasn’t cold in his rooms.
“You’re still anemic,” I said, making him turn. “That’s why you’re cold. That’s a symptom.”
“I’m fine,” he assured me. “I feel much better.”
“Well, you still look like hot garbage.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” he replied with a smirk, running his fingers through his hair.
I hesitated for only a moment before I crossed the room. All of my previous decisions had been valid. He’d said shitty things about me. He didn’t like me. He’d basically been a giant asshole since the moment we’d met.
But.
I’d made an impulsive decision to tie my life to his. There was no going back now, and if I was honest with myself, I wasn’t sure if I’d choose to if given the option. I’d lived my life pretty apathetically to that point. Nothing had ever been permanent, and I’d rarely allowed myself to care about anything based on the assumption that nothing ever would be.
The knowledge that I’d somehow been given something that could never be taken away, something purely mine forever? It was heady.
One of us had to flip the script on this shitshow we’d gotten ourselves into. It may as well be me.
“We have a few minutes, right?” I asked, sliding my hands over his bare chest.
I ignored the ache in my wrist.
“Reese,” he murmured cautiously. “What are you doing?”
“It’s been hours,” I reminded him. The thrumming burn under my skin gradually increasing moment by moment.
“You’re under no obligation—”
“Where’s the asshole?” I asked, cutting him off. I looked him over mockingly like I was searching. “Because the man I climbed like a tree would already be fucking me.”
I let out a whoop of surprise when Beau bent at the waist and wrapped his hands around the backs of my thighs. When he straightened, I scrambled for purchase, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“I don’t have time to fuck you,” he said, spinning toward the dresser.
My ass hit the top, knocking his clothes to the floor.
“What a shame,” I replied breathlessly, tipping my head back.
The sight of him lifting his hand to his mouth had become the most erotic thing I’d ever encountered.
Forget that.
The way he lifted his hand to my mouth, little beads of blood standing out starkly against his skin? That was the most erotic thing I’d ever encountered.
I licked and sucked at the skin, the blood acting like an aphrodisiac as my nipples tightened and my pussy throbbed. My fingers tangled in his hair as I pulled his head toward my neck.
His resistance surprised me enough that I let go of his hand and turned my face toward his. The muscle in his jaw was pulsing as he gritted his teeth, and his eyes were hooded. He was doing his damnedest not to bite me.
“Take it,” I ordered softly.
His eyes closed.
“It’s yours,” I reminded him.
The speed at which he struck was startling, but it wasn’t why I cried out. Every inch of my body throbbed with pleasure. His hand pressed against my lips again, the blood there rolling over my tongue as he shoved his hand up the legs of my boxers. The moment he thrust two fingers inside me, I shattered.
It lasted a long time.
By the time I came down, he’d closed the bite on my throat and was gently brushing the hair back from my face while he waited for me to release his hand.
“We should probably just go back to bed,” I said groggily as he smiled at me. “I don’t think I have any bones left. They disintegrated.”
“I could carry you downstairs,” he replied evenly. “But you probably still want to put some pants on first.”
I sighed and slumped forward, resting my head against his chest. “Fine,” I muttered against his skin.
His hands were gentle as they helped me down from the dresser.
Unfortunately, as I walked back over to my bag, I missed the moment when he shucked off his boxers and traded them for a new pair. By the time I’d set my clothes on the bed, he was pulling up an incredibly faded pair of jeans.
“How old are those jeans?” I asked in disbelief. They were incredible, and they fit him in a way that made me debate stripping and climbing onto the bed. I figured that once I was fully bare and spread out, he’d forget he even had brothers that we were supposed to be downstairs seeing.
“Uh,” he said, glancing down at them as he pulled on his t-shirt. “Fifty years?”
I choked. “You’re kidding.”
“They don’t make shit that lasts anymore,” he mused. “Chance still has bellbottoms that he pulls out every once in a while.”
“I’d pay to see that,” I replied, tearing my eyes away as I stripped out of my underwear and t-shirt.