Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Again, I twist under him, pushing at his chest. “Radisson, l-listen. Please, I—”
All of a sudden, he captures my hands and pins them on the pillow, on either side of my head, growling. It’s loud and menacing. Just as his face and eyes as he looks down at me. He’s propped up on his hands, hovering over me as his chest goes up and down violently. Panting, he says, “You tryna fuck with me?”
I frown for a second before I realize what he means. What it must look like to him and I shake my head quickly. “Oh gosh, no. I didn’t—”
The clench of his jaw is so tight that I feel the ache in mine before he growls again, “So why the fuck are you interruptin’ me when I’m this close to finally, Jesus fuckin’ Christ finally, tastin’ your tits?”
I blush. “Oh.”
Another clench of his jaw that’s just as hard before he leans down, his chest grazing mine with his large breaths. “You know I want that, don’t you? I wanna suck on your tits. Like I wanna suck on other parts of you. Told you that, remember? Can’t possibly be a mystery to you now, not after everythin’.”
“No, I know. It’s not that. It’s just—”
He squeezes my wrists. “But if it ain’t clear to you, you should know that my mouth fuckin’ waters every time you walk by in one of your itty-bitty dresses, flashin’ your titties at me, makin’ them bounce with every step you take. You should know, Princess, that my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth and my throat dries out. I get so goddamn thirsty and not for water. For drinkin’ from your tits. That a clear enough picture for you?”
I’m a panting, writhing mess under him, so wet and swollen between my legs. So swollen up on my tits too. But he’s not done yet. He has more to say, more wonderful things to blow my mind with.
“But I’ll stop,” he growls, his eyes grave. “I’ll fuckin’ stop. If you want me to. You gotta know that, right? I ain’t like the other men in your life. So if you changed your mind and don’t want me anymore, I’ll do it. For you. But if this is some sick fuckin’ joke you tryna play on me, you gotta know, I’ve got flames lickin’ up my insides the longer I stay away from you. So which is it, darlin’, yes or motherfuckin’ no?”
“Yes,” I say immediately, and he breathes out. “I just want to taste you too.”
He draws back.
I lick my lips. “I want to see you too.”
Finally, he understands what I mean. He’s not the only one waiting for this, I have been too. And I’m dying to taste his hot skin. See his hot skin, every inch of it. I want him to take his clothes off too. But something happens to him at this. For a few seconds I don’t understand what exactly. I’ve never seen that expression on his face. Those eyes flared, his scar raised and taut, his mouth parted.
In a flash, it occurs to me then. This is fear. He’s afraid. But… it makes no sense. Why would he be afraid of this?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“RADISSON?”
At my voice, he jerks away from me. He lets my hands go and gets up and off my body. I jackknife on the bed, come up to my knees, naked and all, as I watch him get ahold of himself and back away from the bed. There’s not a lot of light in his space, something I’m only now realizing when my world has expanded and he isn’t my ground and my sky. But still, I can make out the tensed lines of his body. I can see his fisted hands at his sides, the way his stance is wide as if battle-ready.
His eyes are locked with mine and I ask, “What’s wrong?”
He moves his jaw back and forth, his nostrils flaring, his chest jerking up and down. But other than that, he stays silent.
“Talk to me,” I urge, knowing that’s the hardest part for him and not just because of his long-ago injury.
His eyes flash and his breaths speed up. I want to go over to him, wrap him in my arms, but I stay put. I don’t want to spook him when he already looks so scared.
God, what is it, Radisson?
“Please, baby,” I whisper. “Tell me.”
His eyes flare and I know it’s because of the endearment that so casually slipped out of me. And for the millionth time tonight, I realize how foolish I’ve been to withhold myself from him. From the man so love-starved. So hungry and thirsty. For me.
He takes a deep breath, and still keeping our eyes locked, he opens the top button of his drenched shirt. My heart starts slamming in my chest and by the time he gets to the third button, showing a sliver of his bronzed hairy chest, wet from the rain, I want to tell him to stop. I want to tell him there’s no need for him to do this. It’s okay. I don’t want his hands to tremble like they’re doing now, and I don’t want his shoulders to twitch and tense with every breath he takes. But I don’t because something in my gut, in my pounding heart, tells me this is important.