Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. She could feel his heart hammering against her knuckles, fast and hard, and it stunned her. The great Troy Barrymore. The man who had never once shown fear on the ice. And his heart was pounding like he was terrified she would push him away.
She didn't push him away.
She pulled him closer.
His hands slid from her face to her neck, then her shoulders, then down her back, drawing her against him until there was no space left. She fit against his body the way she had always fit, her head tucked under his chin, her hips against his, and when she heard the low sound he made against her hair, she felt it vibrate through her entire body.
They were in the hallway. Then on the stairs. His hands were pulling her shirt over her head, and her fingers were fumbling with the buttons on his, and the apron was somehow still tangled around his neck, and she would have laughed if she could breathe.
His mouth traced the line of her throat. She gasped, her head falling back, and his arm caught her waist to steady her.
"Troy..."
His name came out broken. Half whisper, half plea.
He lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him, and the feel of his hands under her thighs, the muscles in his arms tensing as he carried her weight effortlessly, the sheer, overwhelming size of him surrounding her...
Their bedroom. Not the guest room. Theirs.
He laid her down on her side of the bed, and the mattress remembered her shape, and so did he.
His mouth found the hollow of her throat. Lingered there. Moved lower. The curve of her collarbone, where she felt his breath warm against her skin. The sensitive spot behind her ear, where her breath always caught.
And it caught now. Sharp and helpless.
"Troy..."
His name again. She couldn't stop saying it. It was the only word she had, the only word that mattered, and every time she said it, she felt him react. A tightening of his hands. A roughening of his breath. Like her voice was doing something to him that his body couldn't hide.
He kissed the curve of her ribs. Slowly. Deliberately. His hands spread across her waist, holding her still, and his mouth continued its path downward. The soft skin below her navel, where her body jerked and a gasp tore out of her.
Her hand flew to his hair. Gripped. Pulled him back up.
"Please..."
He came back up, his body covering hers, and when his mouth found hers again, the kiss was deeper now, hungrier, his control starting to slip. She could feel it in the way his hands gripped her hips, in the roughness of his breathing, in the way his jaw clenched when she arched against him.
When he finally settled over her, she didn't close her eyes.
Not this time.
She watched him. And he watched her. And the look on his face...
Like she was the only thing in his world that had ever mattered.
He moved, and her back arched off the bed, and a sound came out of her that wasn't a word. His forehead pressed against hers. His breathing shattered. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she held on, held on to this man who had broken her heart and was putting it back together with his hands and his mouth and the weight of his body against hers.
He moved again. Deeper. Slower. And she gasped his name against his throat, barely, like a secret even from herself. His grip tightened. His hips pressed against hers, and the rhythm between them built, slow and devastating, until her entire body was trembling.
"Troy..."
"I know." His voice was rough. Wrecked. "I know, Laina."
His mouth found the spot below her ear. His hand slid down her thigh, pulling her closer, changing the angle, and the sound she made—
It shattered something between them.
His control broke. She felt it like a physical thing, the snap of restraint giving way, and his body moved against hers with an urgency that stole what was left of her breath. Her legs tightened around him. Her fingers dug into his back. And she could feel it building, feel it gathering at the base of her spine, feel the wave rising—
She came apart with her eyes open and his name on her lips. Said once. Said clearly. And the tears that fell weren't from grief.
He followed her with a groan that he buried against her neck, his whole body shuddering, his arms tightening around her like he was holding on to something he'd almost lost.
And after...
They were in their bedroom. The one they had once shared. And he was looming over her, touching her cheek with the backs of his fingers, and his eyes...
They were bright. And wrecked. And absolutely certain.
"I love you, Laina."