Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
I've never been ashamed of my body. Even after what happened, I was able to hang onto that one piece of myself—that refusal to be ashamed that I'm a big girl. For a little while, part of me wanted to believe that I became a target because of my size, that the hockey team wouldn't have dared to do the same thing if I'd been smaller, more attractive, or some cheerleader. But even then, I knew that wasn't true. They didn't target me because of the size of my ass or the number on my jeans. The sad reality is, they did it in spite of those things, the same way guys like them always do. Nothing was going to stop them from making that bet, whether I was a size two and on the cheer squad or the exact size I was at the time.
But I've never felt more beautiful or more worthy than I do as I stare into my reflection in Briggs' eyes. As I see the way he looks at me like he's lucky to be touching me right now…like I'm something to cherish. I feel like something to cherish in his eyes.
"Show me," I whisper, slowly dragging my nails across his scalp.
He shudders in response, making this sound in the back of his throat that's half rumbling cat, half desperate man. It's sexy as hell.
His hands span my ribcage, sliding toward my back. I shiver as he fumbles with the clasp on my bra, taking two tries before he manages to unhook it. The straps fall away from my shoulders, carried by gravity.
His lips help, impatiently pushing one down, like he wants to see and taste me at the same time. Everywhere he touches me, I ignite, my skin pebbling in response.
He drags my bra down, covering my breasts with his hands, lifting them. His thumbs brush my nipples, making me moan.
"Been thinking about these since I saw them through your dress before the wedding," he murmurs, dipping his head. His lips brush across one, soft, tentative.
I cry out in response, clutching him to me.
He groans again, sucking it into his mouth. The pressure is perfect…heavenly. I'm already a mess on his lap, already aching and desperate.
He moves from one to the other, back and forth, until I'm clawing at his shoulders and choking on his name.
"Don't rush me, beautiful," he groans, lifting wild eyes to mine. "Let me love you."
''Briggs," I whimper. "Please."
He tips me backward off his lap, following me down. His lips close over one hard nipple again before questing lower. His hands travel across my body, too, learning every inch as if he's memorizing every tremble and gasp.
"I love the way you shake for me, Tia," he says, his voice soft. "I've barely even touched you, and you're already so close, aren't you, beautiful?"
"Yes," I moan, my stomach contracting beneath his palm.
His lips curve against my skin before his mouth slides lower, his tongue dipping into my belly button. And then lower, dipping beneath my waistband. I stop breathing. I can't help it. He's so close to where I need him most.
His gaze flicks to mine, worried. "Is this okay?"
"Yes. God, yes," I gasp.
He studies me for a minute, checking for any hint that I'm not being honest. "Remember what I said outside, Tia? You going to let me do it?"
It takes a minute for my brain to catch up and figure out what he means. The second I do, a blast of heat rips through me. "Yes. Please, yes," I beg, writhing beneath him. I want his mouth on me so damn badly.
His fingers slip into my waistband. I stop breathing again as he tugs them down, his eyes locked on my body. I don't think he's breathing either. He's just…staring like he can't look away.
And then my pants and panties are around my knees, and then my ankles. He stops staring long enough to pull my shoes off, placing sweet kisses all along my calves as he tugs my clothes the rest of the way off.
I'm bare beneath him, trembling.
His gaze runs up my body and then back down. "Stunning," he says. "So fucking stunning."
I can't speak. I can't even breathe as he fits himself between my legs again, lifting one over his shoulder, exposing me to him. All I can do is cling to the blankets and watch him.
He moves slowly, carefully, but his control is slipping. Every time his eyes lock on my pussy, it slips a little further. I feel it in the way his hands tighten on me, hear it in the way he groans, see it in the way his eyes darken and his cheeks flush.
He dips his head, running his lips up the inside of my thigh, and I sob. I can't help it. I feel his breath on me, and I'm just…gone.