Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“No. Don’t go.” I want more of him, more of whatever this is between us. More time with him. More attention. More gentleness, specifically.
But mostly, I want more experiences with him that will make me love writing again. I would never want to repeat what happened earlier. It was far too intense and raw, but the experience itself, it’s feeding a curiosity inside me. I can’t help but think of other ways he could pull emotions out of me in a way that will help me believe I lived through them.
His gaze is more heated now, simmering with something unspoken, but I can tell he’s holding back. There’s a restraint in the way he looks at me, like he’s waiting for me to make the next move, leaving the choice in my hands. It’s a shift from before—earlier he had the control, guiding the scene, but now . . . now he’s leaving it up to me. I can sense his hesitation, his awareness of how fragile this moment is.
I lift my hand slowly, and my fingers brush lightly over his lips. His breath catches slightly at the touch, and the feel of his mouth under my thumb ignites a warmth that spreads from my chest down to my core. I trace the outline of his bottom lip, savoring the softness, the subtle parting of his mouth under my touch. His eyes darken with desire, but still, he waits.
I lean forward, closing the space between us, and press my lips to his. His kiss is slow, gentle, as if he’s testing the waters, unsure how far I want to take this. But I can feel the tension beneath his restraint, the way his body leans into mine ever so slightly, as if begging for permission to go further.
I decide to give it to him.
I slip my tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss, and he responds instantly. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, but still gentle, still careful, as if he’s making sure I know I’m the one in control this time. The kiss grows more intense, more heated, and I can feel the fire between us building with every passing second.
There’s no longer any hesitation.
His hands slide down my back, his fingers pressing into my skin, and I feel my body arch toward him, craving his touch. The restraint from earlier has vanished, replaced by something raw and real. This isn’t about playing roles anymore. This is just us, Saint and Petra, two people caught in the heat of a moment that neither of us wants to escape.
He’s standing between my legs now, and his towel leaves very little barrier between us, so I feel him harden almost instantly.
I wrap my legs around him, and that’s when he takes my control of the kiss away from me. He cradles my head with his left hand and deepens the kiss, then pulls me to the edge of the counter with his right hand so that I’m mostly being held up by him.
I let my head fall back as he drags his mouth down my throat. I close my eyes, dizzy beneath his touch. I feel his fingers at the knot I’ve tied on the robe.
“Can I?” he whispers.
I lift my head and look at him, then nod quietly.
His eyes fall to my chest, and then he unties my robe. I lift up a little as he removes it and pulls it away. He tosses it over his shoulder, sucking in a small gasp of air as he looks at me, then runs his fingers down the center of my chest.
I can’t help but stare at his wedding ring as his hand moves to cup my breast.
Are my breasts prettier than his wife’s?
Am I prettier than his wife?
He takes my nipple in his mouth, and I fist my hand into his hair, pressing his lips against my breast even harder. He sucks and bites without a trace of the gentleness he’s been displaying since I got out of the shower.
The hungry side of him has taken over, and his mouth is suddenly all over me—moving between both breasts, then to my neck, then back to my mouth. I can barely keep up with the parts of me he’s focused so intently on before he moves on to another part of me.
He lifts me off the counter and holds me against him, one hand wrapped around my lower back and the other cupping my ass while his tongue is deep in my mouth.
I’m glad he’s carrying me right now, because I think I’m too dizzy to walk.
He drops me on the sofa, pulls his towel away, and then lowers himself on top of me. “Do I need a condom?” he asks.
I’m on the pill, and I know I’m good not to use one, but how do I reassure myself that he is? I barely know him, and my decision-making skills have not been great tonight. I’m naked beneath a man who made me cry from fear earlier.