Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Oh, hell yes. But I can’t resist seeing how far he’ll go to convince me. “I’d say it’s an ‘almost definitely’.”
He places a soft kiss on my nose and asks, “Why don’t we head home and see if I can do a better job of pleading my case?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” As we walk down the hallway hand in hand, I realize Nonnie was right. Sometimes, you just know.
CHAPTER TEN
PRESTON
I wake up and realize I don’t want to change a single thing about the moment. Not the God-awful hour of six-thirty. Not the sharp, golden Texas sunlight, slipping in through the gap in the curtains and pooling across her naked shoulder. Not even the faint, embarrassing noise my stomach makes, which is quickly drowned out by the soft, even sound of Hazel’s breathing.
She’s sprawled diagonally across my bed, stealing ninety percent of the covers and two pillows, a feat that would annoy me if she weren’t so goddamn adorable. Her hair is a halo of brown curls against my white sheets, wild and untamable, like she fought a small war in her sleep and came out victorious. Her left arm dangles off the edge of the mattress, fingers twitching occasionally, as if she’s mid-dream and reaching for something just out of frame.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch. She moved into my place a month ago, and things have only gotten better.
My old existence—late nights at the drafting table, early meetings with clients, endless loops of boredom and loneliness—feels like another lifetime. This? This is reality. Hazel Rose Winslet, all five-foot-nothing of her, in my home, hogging my bed and making me happier than I’ve ever been.
The urge to touch her is overwhelming, but I don’t want to wake her just yet. Instead, I slide a careful hand through her curls, marveling at how soft they are, how they catch and tangle around my fingers.
She shifts, nose scrunching, then rolls toward me with a sleepy mumble. Her eyes open a little bit, and she smiles, a lazy, lopsided smile that makes every cell in my body stand at attention.
“Hi,” she whispers, voice wrecked and beautiful.
“Hi, yourself,” I answer, and I’m surprised how rough my own voice sounds.
She shifts closer, her face tucked under my chin, one hand resting on my chest like she’s staking a claim.
“Did you watch me sleep?” she asks, eyes closed again.
“It’s my favorite part of the day.”
She groans, shoving her face into my neck. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“I know,” I say. “But I’m your weirdo now, so it’s allowed.”
She laughs and looks up, brown eyes still heavy with sleep but shining. “This is true.”
We lie there in the silence, her breath warm on my collarbone. I trace circles on her shoulder, enjoying the lazy early morning.
Eventually, Hazel stirs, stretching like a cat, then flopping bonelessly onto her back. The sheet slips, exposing the full curve of one breast, and she doesn’t even notice. I do. Jesus, do I. I shift closer, trailing my hand down her ribs, over the soft swell of her stomach, to the juncture of her hip. Her skin is warm and smooth, and she shivers under my touch.
I lean over and kiss her, slow and deep, letting her taste exactly how much I want her.
Hazel yanks me down so I’m half on top of her, arms around my neck, legs tangling with mine. My hands are greedy, mapping every inch of her like I’ve never touched her before. She’s soft in all the right places, but there’s a hidden strength in the way she clings to me, pulls me closer, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
She kisses me back, wild and open-mouthed, nipping at my bottom lip until I gasp. She grins against my mouth, triumphant.
“I’m taking charge,” she insists, leaving no room for argument.
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, hands cupping her ass as I roll her on top of me.
She straddles my hips, hair falling around her face in a wild tangle. For a second, she just sits there, staring down at me, then she grins, wicked and beautiful, and grinds down against me.
My cock is already hard, pressed between us, and she drags her pussy over it, slow and deliberate. There’s no rush. Not today. Not with the whole world narrowed down to this room, this bed, this perfect fucking woman.
She leans down, bites my jaw, then slides her hand between us, guiding me to her entrance. She’s wet, so wet I slide right in, and we both shudder at the first contact.
Hazel starts slow, rocking her hips, hands braced on my chest. I watch her, memorizing the way her mouth drops open, the way her eyes roll back when she sinks down and takes me to the hilt. She rides me lazily, drawing it out, savoring every inch. I let her set the pace, let her use me exactly how she wants.