Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Our fork clatters against the plate where he drops it, not breaking my gaze. The chair scrapes back from the table, groaning beneath our combined weight. The ancient wood is sturdy though, built to hold a man like him. His arms surround me, strong and sure.
The flames of hell sear his expression.
"Cord!" I shout as he stands up in one fluid move, tossing me over his shoulder. My hair falls forward, blinding me. I bat it out of my face.
"Time for another lesson, pretty baby," he growls, yanking my sweats down to expose my ass. His rough palm glides over the swell of it, making me moan. "And I'm going to stare at this pretty little thing on the way to teach it to you."
I can't even yell at him for carrying me off like a caveman. If he weren't holding me up right now, I'd be a puddle in the floor. I've never wanted anything the way I want whatever he's going to do to me next.
"Fuck, I can't wait to sink my teeth into this," he mutters, swatting my ass. He strides with purpose into the living room, not even breathing hard. I guess when you spend all day every day working a ranch, carrying someone my size is small fries.
I bounce on his shoulder, my arms dangling to his knees. If his view is anything like mine, I don't blame him for wanting to bite it. His ass is right in my face, his jeans hugging his firm cheeks just right. I should probably be pissed that he's carrying me around like a sack of potatoes, but it's honestly kind of hot. Not that I'm telling him that.
"Lesson four," he says as he carries me into the bedroom.
"I thought we already had lesson four."
"You didn't learn it well enough the first time, princess." He tosses me onto his bed.
I land on my back, sinking into the mattress and thick comforter. Oh, he likes his luxury. His bed is amazing. "You're a big bully, Cord Decker," I say, glaring at him. Just so he knows he can't do whatever he wants whenever he wants. I talk back.
"And we both know you love every minute of it, Cassia Murphy," he says, smirking as he pulls his t-shirt off over his head. He tosses it toward the bathroom door, his eyes soft as they run over me. Mine are locked on him, trying to take in the sight of him again.
Lord, he's impressive. I thought so earlier, but he's even more impressive standing at the foot of his bed with intent in his eyes. Tribal tattoos run up and down the right side of his body. A landscape stretches across the left, with little scenes painted between clouds and flowers. He's not cut like most men who spend an ungodly amount of time in the gym. His stomach is a solid slab of thick muscle, his chest, shoulders, and arms defined. When he turns, I see more tattoos across his back. They're faded from long hours spent baking beneath the hot sun, but no less beautiful.
"Lesson four," he says, popping the button of his jeans and the crawling onto the bed with me. "There are no secrets between a cowboy and his woman." He plants his hands on either side of my head, caging me in beneath him. "What's under your bed?"
"Dust bunnies, probably," I whisper, staring up into his eyes. "I don't vacuum under there very often."
"No toys?"
"I don't think it's very sanitary to keep those under the bed, Cord."
"Where do you keep them then?"
I blush, squirming beneath him. Somehow, admitting that I own sex toys makes me feel more vulnerable than admitting that my mom made me a crazy person. "Um, in my drawer."
He rewards me with a soft kiss, his lips working against mine until I'm boneless and whimpering beneath him. I taste the peaches on his breath and the sweetness that's all him. It's sunshine, as if those long hours outdoors seeped into every cell. I love it.
"How much of the shit you write about have you done, Cassia?" he asks, nuzzling his nose against mine.
"Why?"
"Tryin' to decide where I should start, pretty baby."
"Um…"
"Don't lie now, princess. Has anyone ever touched your pussy before?"
Does my gynecologist count? Probably not.
"Maybe," I say instead, not sure I'm ready to admit to this man that the sum total of my experience boils down to what we did in the kitchen earlier. Sometimes, I watch porn to keep my scenes interesting. But that probably doesn't count as experience to anyone, let alone a man like Cord.
"Don't piss me off," he growls, his possessive tone gritting like sandpaper against my womb.
"No," I admit, squeezing my eyes closed. "Until today, no one ever touched me."
He's completely silent above me. "You're a virgin?"
"Yes." I peel my eyes open, tilting my head back on the pillow to meet his gaze. "I'm not ashamed of it either, Cord. I'm a twenty-six-year-old virgin who writes dirty books. So if that's a dealbreaker for you, fine. But I won't feel badly about waiting for the right–"