Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
I groan. “You’re going to destroy me, honey.”
She goes for the buttons on my shirt, yanking it open to reveal the white muscle shirt underneath.
“Why so many clothes?” She protests with an adorable pout to her voice. I never knew that sound could be sexy.
“Right back at you,” I whisper as I slide my hands up her legs and underneath that silky slip so I can touch her curves. I love the way they fill my hands. I can’t wait to watch them shake and shudder when she’s in my bed, feeling me pleasure her.
“Not there. I’m self-conscious about my belly. Too many stretch marks,” she tells me, pressing a hot kiss to my neck. Her lips are an inferno, stoking the fire burning in my body even hotter.
“This belly carries nutrients for your body. It gives you energy to do all those things I love watching you do, like singing under your breath and reading your favorite steamy books. It’s carried the little one I want to call my own. This belly deserves nothing less than my complete respect and devotion.” Since we’re in my truck, I can’t reach down and press kisses to her precious belly so I kiss my palms instead and rub them over her skin.
She whimpers my name. “That’s really…I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
I kiss her again, sweeping my tongue into her mouth as my fingers continue to dance across her skin. I cherish the lumps and bumps, the cellulite and the silvery stretch marks.
It amazes me that warriors are taught to celebrate their scars as proof they lived, and women are taught to diminish their stretch marks as though there’s something shameful about their survival. There is nothing shameful about my woman’s body. Every inch of it is beautiful, and I can’t wait until the moment I can stretch her out in my bed and examine it properly.
She pushes herself against me, her chest bumping mine. I love the weight of her breasts, the way I can feel every heaving breath. The way she gasps into my mouth when my fingers go beneath her belly, cupping her feminine heat. She grinds against my hand, seeking the friction she so desperately needs.
I play her body slowly until she’s writhing against me, finding her release. It’s the most sacred experience of my life, feeling her fall apart in my arms and knowing I caused it.
When she slumps against me and buries her face in my neck, contentment thrums through my veins. Yeah, I made a mess in my pants while making sure she got what she needed. It was still the best moment of my life.
The windows of the truck are fogged, and the air is filled with the smell of her sweet nectar. I’m dying for a taste, but I want it straight from the source.
I hold her as her breathing evens out. When it does, I feel her smile against me. “Do we have to rush back?”
“We have as much time as you need,” I reassure her. As long as no one calls to say there’s trouble at my aunt’s house, I have no intention of ending this night early. I’ve wanted her for too long to give her back now. If that makes me selfish, I don’t care.
“Then can we go to your cabin?”
“You want to see where I live? It’s hardly anything. It’s a little shack that needs updating and more than a few modern amenities. I’m lucky there’s hot water,” I admit in case she has any vision of my place being something she sees featured in those farmhouse magazines with matching throw pillows and a sleeping dog on the front porch. That’s the life I want to give her.
“I want to be in your bed,” she huffs out.
It dawns on me that she’s not all that curious about my place. “You want to be in my bed the first time I make love to you.”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
“I’m warning you now. Once you climb into my bed, I’m not letting you up until I’ve fulfilled every fantasy I have of you. That’s going to take the next four decades, give or take the occasional leg cramp.”
She giggles. “We’ll have to massage those out very slowly.”
I groan. “You’re going to destroy me.”
“That’s the idea. Now, drive me home. I want to see this bed of yours.” She wiggles her way out of my lap, making sure to brush against me in a way that has my blood pumping all over again. What is it about this woman that makes me insatiable? I wasn’t joking about those four decades.
The drive to my cabin passes in a blur of raging lust. It doesn’t help that she keeps her hands on my leg. Every mile, she inches a little bit higher. I didn’t take her for a seductress, but I’m not complaining. It’s thrilling to know she’s as crazy for me as I am for her.