Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
I glance over at her one more time. She looks up and catches my eye, lips curving into a small, knowing smile.
God help me.
"What will we do until morning?" she asks, voice sweet and dangerous all at once.
TEN
ANNISTON
I'm sitting on the couch with my book forgotten in my lap, the question still hanging between us like a spark ready to catch fire. "What will we do until morning?"
The words slip out soft and a little breathless, but I don't take them back. The cabin is quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the wooden beams settling in the cool night air. Banks is at the table, laptop open, shoulders tense under that black thermal shirt that clings to every hard line of muscle. His jaw is locked tight, gray-blue eyes fixed on the screen like it's the only thing keeping him from coming apart.
He doesn't answer right away. The silence stretches, thick and electric. I can feel the heat of his gaze even when he's pretending to work. It's been two hours since that kiss on the rug, two hours of him brooding and me pretending I can focus on anything else. My body still remembers the press of his mouth, the way his hand cupped the back of my neck like he owned me. I shift on the cushion, thighs pressing together, trying to ease the ache that's been building since he pulled away.
Banks exhales sharply. His fingers hover over the keyboard for one more second, then he slams the laptop shut with a decisive click that echoes through the small space. The sound makes my pulse jump. He stands up slowly, chair scraping back, and turns toward me. His eyes are dark now, storm-cloud gray, filled with everything he's been holding back.
"Anniston," he says, voice low and rough like gravel under boots. "You really want to know what we're going to do until morning?"
I swallow hard, but I don't look away. Heat pools low in my belly, spreading outward until my skin feels too tight. "Yes."
He moves like lightning, crossing the room in three long strides. One second he's at the table, the next he's in front of me, towering, all broad shoulders and restrained power. His hand slides into my hair, fingers tangling at the base of my skull, and he yanks me up off the couch and into him. Our mouths crash together, hot and urgent and nothing like the careful kiss we shared earlier. This one is hungry. Demanding. His tongue sweeps in without hesitation, tasting me like he's been starving for it.
I moan into his mouth, hands fisting in his shirt. He tastes like coffee and restraint finally breaking. His free hand grips my hip, pulling me flush against him so I can feel exactly how hard he is already. The thick length of him presses against my stomach, and a fresh wave of heat floods between my thighs.
"Fuck, Anniston," he growls against my lips, breaking the kiss just enough to speak. His breath is hot on my skin. "You've been teasing me for hours. Walking around in that little tank top, doing yoga like you're trying to make me lose my mind. You have any idea what I've been thinking about doing to you?"
I shake my head, dazed, but my body arches into him on instinct. "Tell me."
He walks me backward until my back hits the wall beside the fireplace, the cool wood a sharp contrast to the fire burning under my skin. His mouth trails down my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below my ear. "I've been imagining spreading you out on that couch and licking you until you scream my name. Imagining how tight you'd feel around my cock. How wet you'd get for me."
His words send a shiver racing down my spine. I love the filthy edge in his voice, the way this grumpy, controlled man is finally letting go. "Banks..."
He pulls my tank top up and over my head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. My breasts spill free, nipples already tight and aching. His eyes darken as he looks at me, one big hand cupping one breast, thumb brushing over the peak until I gasp.
"Look at you," he murmurs, voice dropping lower. "So fucking pretty. These tits have been driving me crazy since the boutique." He bends his head and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. The wet heat of his tongue makes my knees weak. I thread my fingers through his dark hair, holding him there as pleasure shoots straight to my core.
He switches to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention while his hand slides down my stomach. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of my shorts, teasing the edge of my panties. "You're soaked already, aren't you, baby? All that flirting and you couldn't wait for me to touch this pretty pussy."