Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
It’s fire and hunger and trust.
It’s heat and passion and need.
He gives and I take, and he takes and I give in a clash that has me aching in all the right places.
Pax glides his free hand down my side, grazing my breast but dipping lower and lower, to where the edge of my flowy skirt ends. His fingers meet the skin of my thigh, and I sigh at the contact, my heart pounding as he slowly trails that hand up and up…
He pulls back from our kiss an inch, eyes churning with lust. “Still trust me?”
I nod immediately, not a hint of hesitation in my soul.
His hand moves higher, just barely teasing the cotton fabric covering me. “Still want me to show you?”
“Yes,” I breathe the word. “Paxton, please,” I beg, not caring how desperate I sound. My body is wound so tightly, my skin so sensitive, my lips aching for his mouth. “Just don’t stop.”
“Fuck, Monroe,” he groans before he claims my mouth again, his fingers teasing me over the fabric.
I gasp between his lips, clinging to him tighter as he slips his fingers beneath the fabric covering me, sliding them between my wetness.
“Fuck,” he groans against my mouth before he teases me, gliding one finger inside my heat, then two. He draws back, catching my gaze as he slowly pumps those fingers inside me. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he says, his voice rough and raw. “You feel this?” he says, curling his fingers and making me whimper.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“This is how not broken you are,” he says, pumping and curling those fingers, every move feeling like absolute heaven.
My mind threatens to analyze it—to unpack why I can feel this way with Paxton so damn easily—but I force it away. I stay right where I’m at, in the very heated present with my best friend.
“I’ve wanted to do this with you for years,” he continues, wetting his thumb with my slickness before dragging it in teasing circles over my throbbing clit. “That’s how fucking desirable you are, Monroe.”
“Paxton,” I gasp as he presses down a little harder on that bundle of nerves, kissing me and curling his fingers at the same time.
My head is spinning, my body submitting to Paxton’s touch without so much as a second of hesitation. My skin is hot, my heart pounding. Everything in me is aching with need. I rock against his hand, chasing that feeling.
He pumps faster, using the heel of his palm to grind against my clit, all while kissing me, his tongue rubbing against mine and making me see freaking stars with every touch.
“Paxton,” I gasp between our lips. “I…I…”
I can’t speak, can’t form a coherent thought. Not while I’m swept under a current of explosive pleasure, my body clenching around him as waves of heat crash beneath my skin as I come on his fingers.
And keep coming.
Paxton’s moves shift, slowing but still drawing out every ounce of pleasure I possess.
I cling to him as I catch my breath, and he gently pulls his hand out from underneath my skirt. He dips down, kissing me again, slower this time and with more meaning—
“Monroe?” Blakely’s voice sounds from the entrance of the bar, the inquiry jolting us apart slightly.
“Coming!” I call out to her, not wanting her to peek around this corner and see just how tangled up Paxton and I are. Not that we have anything to hide—we’re both consenting adults—but…I’m not even sure how to explain what just happened, my head is still spinning.
“Okay! Just checking!” Blakely calls back.
I look up at Paxton and he grazes a knuckle down my cheek. “Your disappearance has been noticed,” he says, his voice just this side of rough. “You better get back in there.”
“What about you?”
Pax shifts against me, and I gasp, heat blazing up my spine at the hard contact I feel. He kisses me again, quickly this time. “I need a minute.”
I swallow hard, stuck in a locked battle of knowing I should go before I make a terrifying decision, like beg him to take me home right now.
“What if I don’t want to go?” I whisper the question.
He smirks. “We live together,” he says. “A few minutes won’t hurt.”
I breathe, fully feeling the relief of that statement. We don’t have to do anything else right now or analyze what happened or talk it out. He’s giving me the space to breathe and think and it’s…it’s everything.
“Go,” he says. “I’ll be inside in a minute.”
I step out of his embrace, heading around the building, feeling my cheeks burn.
I did that to him. Me.
He wants me, desires me.
I glance over my shoulder, unable to not look back.
His eyes are on me, looking at me in a way I’ve never seen him look at me before.
And after what he’d just done to me?
I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look at him the same either.