Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer. Her body arches into mine. Little sounds escape her throat that make me want to throw every good intention out the window.
When we finally break apart, we're both panting.
“Teach me,” she whispers.
“Teach you what?”
“Teach me to fall in love back.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Let’s try.”
This time, I don't hold back. I let her feel the depth of what I want. Let my hands wander over her hips, her waist, the curve of her arse.
She melts into me, and Christ, having her like this, willing and wanting, is better than years of fantasies.
“Ashland.” She gasps between kisses. “I want—I didn’t realize how much I… wanted to be wanted.”
I hold her to me, my sweet girl.
“What do you want, lass? Tell me.”
“You. I want you.”
The words nearly break me. “You have me. You've always had me.”
I lift her onto the table, then step between her thighs. The photos scatter, forgotten.
“We should slow down,” I murmur against her neck, even as my hips rock against hers.
“I don't want to slow down.”
“You're not ready—”
“Stop telling me what I'm ready for.” She pulls back and meets my eyes. “I'm here. I chose this. I chose you. Stop treating me like I'm going to break.”
“You don't understand.” I grip her hips, probably too hard. “Once I start, I won't be able to stop. I'll take everything. Mark you. Claim you. Make you so fucking mine that you'll never be able to leave. You’ll—”
“Good,” she breathes out.
And that's when I know I've lost the battle with my control.
“Bedroom,” I growl. “Now.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Bianca
My heart beats so fast I feel a little dizzy. The range of emotions is rocking me, like I'm playing emotional whiplash, and then he… Oh fuck.
Oh Jesus fucking Christ.
Ashland bends and lifts me, his thick, large hands grabbing my arse. I will never tire of him holding me. Then I'm in his arms, and my legs wrap around him. Even now, there’s an instinctive need to protest. You can't lift me… I'm too big… How can you?
But the ease with which he carries me silences any objections I have. This is exactly what he is built for, and it looks as if he's been dying for just this moment.
To hold me. To show me. To claim me.
And now, I want it. There was something about being back with Marcus—hearing the way he talked about me, the way he treated me, feeling that energy vibrate off him—that made me see everything Ashland told me was true. And not just about the murders.
About… me. About how he feels. About the way he’ll do anything to protect me.
Every objection I had fell away, discarded like paper from a gift. I was left with nothing but the brutal truth: Ashland is obsessed with me. He's obsessed with me. And my god, I want to be with a man who's obsessed with me.
Maybe that makes me twisted, but right now, all I want is to forget. His hands are wrapped around my arse and upper thighs—my legs around his waist. I throw my arms around his neck and hold on, because when I’m with Ashland, I fall straight out of my mind and into my body in a way only he can control. My thoughts blur and quiet, and I just… feel.
Then he kisses me, his lips on mine, and I've never wanted to be kissed like this before in my life. He walks—no, stalks—toward the bedroom, carrying me as if I’m weightless.
He’s not even winded. He lays me down on the bed with reverence. My head hits the pillow, and I'm cocooned in soft white linen.
Then the bed creaks as he places one knee down beside me. “You're so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, his lilt thick with emotion. “So beautiful, Bianca. I'll say that every single day until you believe it too. I can't believe—”
He chokes, unable to make eye contact. And I realize he's not exactly crying, but he… I place a tentative hand on the broad expanse of his chest and feel hard muscle beneath my palm. “It's okay,” I whisper.
“I want this. I want you.” He bends down and slowly cups my jaw.
His hand is so large—his thumb rests on my chin, and his thick, rough fingers span the length of my neck. I shiver and move involuntarily closer to his palm, like a cat seeking attention and warmth. His lips meet mine as his tongue explores my mouth.
Pressure builds between my thighs, rocking me to my core. “You have to understand, lass,” he says, his voice raw, “once I have you, I'm never gonna let you go. You know that, don't you?”
“I'm counting on it,” I whisper.
He notices me trembling, his second hand braced on the bed beside us. He kisses me like I’m precious. And I love it.