Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“What?”
He pointed back and forth between us. “I don’t even fucking know, Francesca. But whatever it is, I feel it all the time, even when we aren’t together. I think about you when I’m not with you. I would kill a man if he just looked at you wrong. And it’s bullshit that you compare this to a man who waited so fucking long to be with you.”
“He didn’t feel that way about me until then.”
“Fucking bullshit. He was always in love with you.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Trust me, I fucking know,” he snapped. “Francesca, I want a real chance. As much as I love it when we fight, and your sexy stubbornness makes me harder than steel, I want a shot. I don’t want to be compared to some guy who didn’t deserve you. Who waited so long to be a man and tell a woman he loved her. Because I knew I wanted you from the moment I looked at you, and I cut myself how many fucking times just to be in the room with you. You’re going to give me a chance—because I fucking earned it.”
I was paralyzed by his words, shocked by the way he could take my breath away with his intensity and his passion. I’d never met another man like that, who was crazy and passionate and so expressive all at the same time. “It doesn’t change the fact that my father will kill you if he finds out about us.”
“I told you to let me worry about that, alright?”
I swallowed, utterly terrified and enthralled by him at the same time. I’d never met a man who came at me so hard, who’d looked at me once and didn’t stop until he had me. Men had shared their unrequited feelings for me before, but it was never as intense as this.
“Now let’s go back inside and finish our dinner.”
I glanced past him down the street, seeing a little boutique hotel about a hundred feet away. “Can we get it to go?” My eyes moved back to his intense stare. “There’s a hotel down the street.”
He stared for several heartbeats, his eyes equally maniacal and intense. Then he reached for his wallet as he moved toward me, pulling out a black credit card and placing it in my palm. “I want you naked on the bed when I walk in there.”
He let himself into the cheap hotel room with the bag of food in his hand. He tossed it on the dresser where the TV sat before he dropped his long-sleeved shirt down his arms and yanked his t-shirt over his head.
I was naked on the bed, so anxious for him I felt the slickness between my upper thighs.
He kicked off his boots as he looked at me lying there on top of the bed, his eyes hungry for my flesh. He undid his black jeans then yanked them down over his narrow hips with his boxers, revealing his steel rod for a dick.
I started to turn over so he could take me from behind, sticking my ass in the air, but he grabbed me with his big hands and forced me onto my back before he moved between my thighs.
“I want to look at my woman while I fuck her.” He pinned one of my legs back before he moved between my thighs. Then he rubbed his cock against my wet folds, lubing himself up in the fountain of my desire. He grabbed his length and directed it inside me, moaning when he sank into my tightness.
I moaned so loud, it was like I just came.
His hand dug into the back of my hair as he held himself over me, thrusting with smooth and even strokes like a machine in a factory, fucking me with precision. Full of possession and passion, he looked at me with an intensity that could easily be mistaken for hatred. “You’re my woman.” He slammed into me harder, fucking me as if he had unlimited power. “Fucking mine.” He said it between his thrusts. “You understand me?” He breathed hard because he was fucking me so vigorously.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“Yes,” I said after I moaned. “I’m yours.”
11
FRANCESCA
I fell asleep on the drive home, using his long-sleeved shirt as a blanket, the seat warmer on and his hand on my thigh. I stirred when I felt his arms hook underneath my body and lift me out of the vehicle and against his chest.
I heard the door handles pop back into the car as the Range Rover locked itself when he walked away.
“You don’t have to carry me,” I mumbled into his chest, making no move to leave his embrace.
The smirk was even audible in his voice. “I’ll always carry you, baby.” He carried me up the stairs and placed me in my bed before he pulled my dress over my head like he was tucking me in for the night. He set my clutch on my nightstand and took out my phone so I could easily reach it. He pulled the sheets up to my shoulder, being the gentleman I’d met earlier.