Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
My thighs crushed the sides of his head.
And finally, with a long, deep moan, the climax soared through me over and over, and just when I thought I could take a breath, more. Until I was gasping, shaking, boneless.
Perish’s head shifted when my legs released him, pressing a sweet kiss to my inner thigh as my hand rested gently on his head.
I wanted to hold onto the moment forever.
I never wanted him to move away from me.
But then, drifting down the hallway, a familiar voice had the two of us jerking apart like we’d been scalded.
“Listen, I usually believe that men just shouldn’t be allowed to buy mics with the toxic shit they are spreading with them,” she said as I clutched at my top, yanking my bodice back into place, hoping it didn’t look like it was gaping too much. “But yours is something special. I know!”
She was getting closer.
For one short second, our gazes met; the longing, regret and, yes, worry passed silently between us.
Then Perish was rushing away from me, striding toward the door as I slid down from the counter, suddenly wanting to curl up in a ball and cry.
“Alright. I’m at my door. I’m hanging up now. Go give your boyfriend a kiss for me! Love—”
Perish yanked the door open, silencing Layna.
She looked up at him with raised brows and wide eyes. He said nothing, ducked his head, and disappeared out of my line of sight.
“You,” Layna finished, ended her call, then let her arm drop down to the side. “Um…” she said, shooting that curious look in my direction.
I knew I was flushed, that the orgasms were written all over my face.
So I turned back toward the kitchen, waving a hand as I went to finish making the pot of coffee I’d started.
“My stupid car wouldn’t start,” I said, hoping I sounded natural because everything inside me felt shaky, raw, exposed. “I ran into Perish, and he insisted on walking me home.”
“Hm,” she said, closing and sliding the door locks. “Then why is he walking like he’s in pain?”
“Dunno. Maybe he hurt himself when he tackled me or something.”
“Or something,” she repeated. I could hear the dubiousness in her voice, pretended not to, and watched the first few drops of coffee fall into the pot.
“Do you want to have a pajamas and pizza night?” I asked, forcing some enthusiasm into my voice. “Then call it an early night? I’m so tired.”
“Sure,” Layna said.
I still didn’t trust her tone.
I could feel the weight of her gaze on me.
“Great. You order. I’m gonna find us both some jammies.”
Was I a coward who pretended to check something on my phone as I passed? Yep. But it was that or let her see my face.
Layna knew me too well.
And I wasn’t a very good liar.
She would read the guilt all over my face.
Then what?
Would she tell the others? Would pillow talk end up with my cousins knowing that Perish did the one thing he was forbidden to do? Put his hands on a princess.
No.
I couldn’t risk that.
He didn’t deserve that.
I’d begged for goodness’ sakes.
And all he’d done was give. He took nothing.
Guilt churned in my belly as I forced my pace to be casual while I made my way down the short hall and into my bedroom.
I closed the door with a quiet click, then rushed into my closet, laying out pajamas on the bed for Layna before rushing across the hall into the bathroom.
“PJs are on the bed. I’ll be out in a minute!” I called.
Finally, I locked myself in the bathroom, where I leaned back against the door and exhaled hard.
So.
That just happened.
If I needed proof of it, one glance at the mirror showed me my gaping bodice that had been tight just that morning. And when I stopped clutching my thighs, my ripped panties slid to the ground at my feet.
I bent down to gather them, then tossed them into the trash, burying them under tissues.
I could smell Perish all over me, that spicy scent that I wanted to breathe in all night. But I couldn’t risk Layna smelling it when she was already suspicious.
So I stripped and climbed into the shower, scrubbing him away, replacing him with my own scent.
Each inch of me still felt too sensitive, too receptive to touch. And if I closed my eyes and focused enough, I could almost feel his hands and lips and tongue still on me.
But for reasons I was choosing not to analyze, the memory made my chest constrict and my eyes burn.
So I forced them away.
As I dried off, I found there was one thing I couldn’t wash away, though.
Right there halfway up each thigh were faint, barely there bruises from where he’d gripped me, where his hands had sank in deeper when I moaned and writhed and begged for more.