Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
I lurch up, lunge at her, and grab her wrists to stop the inundation. She’s laughing so hard she barely has any strength left to fight against me. Her face is flushed despite the chill, and I can’t fucking help myself.
I crash my mouth down on hers, feel her freeze in shock for a moment, and then gobble down the sultry groan that warbles out of her. It heats me to my bones, and then we’re clawing at each other.
Grabbing, fisting clothing, attacking each other with our mouths. My hands make their way back to her face, intent on holding her still so I can consume everything she has to offer.
The kiss is atomic, off-the-charts hot, and filled with so much emotion I don’t know whether she’s coming at me with hate or something else.
Doesn’t matter.
I’m not stopping.
Then something comes over me…a calm that feels like a steadying hand. I slow myself, make an exploring and leisurely swipe of my tongue against hers, and she melts into my body. An arm around her waist, I pull both of us to a standing position, the water lapping at my lower legs. I haul her into me and kiss her with all the regret I’ve been carrying around in my soul for years—a sincere apology.
Calliope wraps one leg around mine and puts her hands on my shoulders as if she’s trying to climb up my body. I help her along, putting my hands under her ass as I haul her up. Her legs wrap around my waist, and our mouths never break contact.
She shudders in my arms, over and over again, and it’s like a drug. Every part of her vibrates, even her lips against mine, and it’s intoxicating.
I jerk my head back and look at her with a question in my gaze. She stares back at me, eyes hot but teeth now chattering audibly.
“Fuck,” I mutter, turning to the bank of the pond. “You’re freezing.”
“J-j-j-u-s-t a little,” she stutters.
I walk two paces and lower her to the edge of the shore, where she gingerly finds purchase in the grass. She looks down at her feet. “M-m-m-y-y-y s-s-s-and-al.”
Huh?
I look down and note that one of her shoes is missing. I’m spurred into action, pointing at her tailgate. “Get out of those clothes so we can at least wring the water out. I’ll get your shoe.”
Calliope’s fingers start working at the buttons of her shirt, and for a moment, I’m lost. She’s not looking at me, but at the buttons she’s fumbling with, and I wait with my breath stuck in my lungs as the first two pop free.
Her head lifts, and she tilts it in question.
“Fuck,” I mutter and turn away, going back down to my knees in the water so my hands can move along the silt at the bottom. I push through wet leaves, sticks, and God knows what other kind of crud has settled at the bottom. As I move along, finding my Cinderella’s lost shoe seems hopeless, but then I catch hold of the smooth, leather band. I didn’t pay much attention to them before, but when I pull it out of the mud with a squelching sound and plenty of suction, I note regretfully that it’s probably ruined.
I turn to her and hold up the hidden treasure I located for her, only to find her bent over and shimmying out of her wet jeans. A lacy thong and a shapely ass are revealed, curves that I know all too well. My body reacts despite the cold water and my own wet jeans, my cock starting to thicken at the sight of her.
She finally gets them off and is almost naked save for the thong and a matching lace bra. She turns toward me, and I’m not quite sure what my face reveals, but her chattering teeth stop, and she flushes from her cheeks down to the rounded globes of her breasts.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I warn her, taking a step out of the mud toward the bank.
“Like what?” she asks, and…yeah, she’s not cold now. Heat and challenge are clear in her voice.
I don’t bother answering her. It’s rhetorical anyway.
When my foot hits the bank, I drop her sandal to the grass and immediately pull my wet T-shirt over my head.
Because you know…I need to wring it out, too.
Except I drop it to the ground, and it hits with a wet splat.
We stare at each other, each silently demanding something of the other. Are we on the same page? Does she want me the way I want her?
My silent question is answered when her trembling hands move to the center clasp of her bra, and with practiced ease, she flicks it open. The wet lace clings to her skin, so she has to peel it away. Her breasts spring free, nipples pebbled hard. I groan.