Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
He slips inside, filling me, making us both moan.
“And tight. So goddamn tight. Am I hurting you, baby?”
“Never.” Cupping his cheek, I scratch my fingers in his soft whiskers. “You’d never hurt me. God, it’s so bloody good, a ghrá.”
He smiles before he kisses me and moves his hips in a circle. I’m pretty sure my soul just left my body.
He pulls my nipple into his mouth and licks the hard nub before moving to the other side to give it the same attention. My body is on fire for this man.
“I need to get closer,” he mutters against my neck. “I can never get close enough.”
“Pull my leg up,” I whisper. He does, but only hooks it around his elbow, which opens me way wider. He’s able to go deeper, but that’s not what I meant. “More.”
He frowns down at me, and it makes me grin.
“Push my knee into my shoulder, Beck.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to sit up.”
“You don’t have to.”
I love that he doesn’t want to hurt me, but I’m a ballerina.
So I show him. I pull my leg up myself, and his eyes go wide.
“Push inside me now, a ghrá.”
He does, and now he’s bottomed out, and he groans before covering my mouth with his.
“Jesus Christ, you’re flexible.”
“Perk of the job.”
He snickers, then he’s moving once more, and neither of us is laughing.
“Fuck, Irish, I need you to get there.”
“I’m there.” I feel the contractions start. The heat rolls through me, and it feels like my body explodes into a million pieces, with Beckett there to collect every single one and put me back together again. Is that roar the sound of my blood in my ears, or Beck falling over with me? I think it’s the latter, and the next thing I know, he’s reversed our positions again, and I’m lying on top of him. He’s still inside me and hugging me as if his life depends on it.
“I love you,” he says as he brushes loose hair off my cheeks and cups my face. “God, I fucking love you. I want you to sleep, baby.”
“I love you, too.”
“You’ve lost your bloody mind.”
I’m lying flat on my back, knees bent, struggling to breathe while staring at the ceiling of my studio.
“You’re being lazy.” Mik stands over me, scowling.
“I am not lazy, Mikhail.” Bloody hell, why can’t I breathe? “You’re a tyrant.”
“Again.”
“No, I’m going to lie here until I die.”
“Again, malishka. Up.”
He snatches my hand off my belly and pulls me up to my aching feet. I want to cry out, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.
I have nails coming off again, blisters on my blisters, and this is my third pair of toe shoes this week.
And we’ve only been practicing for nine days.
“It never used to be this hard.” I hang my head and wish for a nap. “Or hurt this bad.”
“Yes, it was, and it did,” he says, but he doesn’t soften his voice. Mik’s always been a pain in the arse. “But you’ve been away so long, you’ve forgotten.”
“I’d like to keep forgetting.”
He shakes his head and gestures for me to return to the middle of the floor so we can start from the top of the scene.
Of course, the king wants to see the most emotional, most difficult scene of the entire show for his inauguration. It’s ten minutes of torture.
“I need a break,” I tell him.
“No. You need to keep going.”
“Jesus, babe, give her a break.”
I let the smile come as Mik’s head whips around to the door where Benji’s standing. Beck’s right behind him. I knew Benji was flying in today, and Beck offered to pick him up from the airport and surprise Mik at the studio.
The timing couldn’t be better. I really do need a break.
Mik runs to his man, and they embrace. My romantic heart sighs as they kiss as if they haven’t seen each other in months.
“Okay, tyrant, stand aside. I haven’t seen your man in too long, and I need a hug.”
I push Mik out of the way and am swallowed up in Benji’s hug. He’s a tall, lean man without an ounce of fat on him. He wears glasses, and he has the start of a five o’clock shadow on his handsome face.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmurs and kisses my head. “Are you keeping him in line?”
“He’s abusing me. That’s what he’s doing,” I say, giving Mik an evil grin. “He’s really mean to me, Benji. Make him pay. No sex. No cuddles. No murder documentaries.”
“Wow, you’re gonna make me pay too, huh?” Benji gives me one more squeeze before he lets me go, and I’m suddenly surrounded by my man, who’s hugging me from behind.
“Surprise,” I say to Mik, who’s hugging his guy once again. “Now will you give me a break?”