Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I'd make her come on my tongue until she begged me to stop. I'd worship every inch of her until my jaw ached and my cock throbbed, until she was boneless and sated and finally, finally mine in every way that matters.
Six fucking years I've waited for this. Six years of wanting her so badly it physically hurt, of turning down every other woman because they weren't her, could never be her. And now she's here, kissing me like she means it, and I want to take everything she's offering and more.
Christ. I need to fucking stop.
“But—” She bites that fucking lip again. “Can we just… do this? For now?”
“Aye. Of course we can.”
Then I'm kissing her again, and she's responding like she's been waiting for this too. Her hands are on my head, her body pressed against mine, little sounds escaping her throat that make me want to throw her over my shoulder and take her like a goddamn caveman.
But I won't. She needs gentle. She needs intimate. She needs me to prove I can give her this without taking more than she's ready to offer.
I've waited six years. I can wait a little longer.
And when I finally have her, when she's begging for me, it needs to be because she's sure.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen, her hair a mess from my hands. She looks thoroughly kissed and absolutely beautiful.
The way she's looking at me, like I'm not a monster, makes my chest tight.
“Bed,” I say roughly, because if she stays out here much longer, I won't be able to control myself. “You're exhausted. We can talk more in the morning.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“Couch.”
“Ashland—”
“I want you to be sure.” I force the words out, even though every instinct screams at me to take what I want, to make her mine, to close the distance between us in every possible way. “I don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for… what? A lie? A trap?
“But make no mistake, lass.” I let my voice drop lower, rougher, and let my eyes burn into hers so she can see exactly how much I want her. I don’t want her to entertain the thought for even a second that I’m rejecting her because I can already see the hint of fear in her eyes.
“When you do decide, when you come to me because you want this, not because you're scared or confused or trying to figure out what's real, I will worship every inch of you. I will make you feel things you didn't know you could feel.” I lean in just enough that she has to tilt her head back to hold my gaze. “And when that time comes, I promise you… you’ll beg.”
The way her breath catches, the way her pupils dilate, the subtle press of her thighs together—aye, she likes that. Likes when I'm commanding and dominant.
Good, because that's the only way I know how to be.
But I still step back and give her some space.
“The choice is yours, Bianca. It's always been yours, even when you didn't know it.” I run a hand over my head, feeling the roughness of stubble. “I'll wait as long as you need. A day. A week. Forever, if that's what it takes.”
I mean it, even if it kills me.
She stares at me for a long moment, something shifting in her expression I can't quite read. Then she takes a step toward the bedroom and pauses, her hand on the doorframe.
“Ashland?”
My name in her voice still does things to me. “Aye?”
She doesn't turn around. “Will you… I don't want to be alone tonight.” It’s so quiet I almost miss it. “Just to hold me. Until I fall asleep.”
Christ.
“Are you sure, lass?”
She nods, finally looking back at me over her shoulder. “Please.”
I'm off the couch before I can think better of it, following her into the bedroom. I give her one of my T-shirts to wear, and she climbs into bed. I settle in behind her, pulling her back against my chest. She fits perfectly in my arms. Those curves I've memorized from a distance are now pressed against me, soft and warm and real.
Her hair smells like the vanilla shampoo I bought for her. Her breathing gradually slows as she relaxes into me.
“Thank you,” she whispers after a moment.
I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing her in. “Always, love.”
She shifts slightly, getting comfortable, and the movement sends a fresh wave of want through me. But I force myself to stay still, to just hold her… to give her the safety she's asking for.
Her hand finds mine where it rests against her stomach, and she laces our fingers together. For the first time in six years, I feel something like… peace.