Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I bottom out in her heat.
Her slick, throbbing, perfect heat that’s already silently demanding more, even before she pants, “Hard. God, Baylor, fuck me hard. Fuck me so hard.”
I oblige her, an animal sound ripping from my chest as the heat builds fast. I brace one forearm by her head as I grip her waist with my free hand, holding her steady as she demands more.
I give her everything I’ve got. I fuck her until the headboard is slamming against the wall, until her high, desperate cries fill the room, only slightly louder than my suffering grunts as I fight to keep from coming too soon. And then she leans in, trapping half my bicep between her teeth, biting down as she comes with a scream that’s only slightly muffled by the muscle filling her mouth, and that’s it.
As her pussy squeezes me tight again, I bury my face in her neck and come in sharp, white-hot jets. Pleasure so intense it’s almost painful twists through my core as I confess everything I’ve held back in groans and gasps and a sound way too close to a whimper to be manly.
But that’s okay.
I don’t always have to be “manly” with Char.
I can just be me.
Be the philosophy nerd who wants to talk about the things we’ve read, the scared brother desperate to keep his sister safe, the flawed human being who sometimes punches first and thinks about the consequences later.
The guy who wasn’t sure he’d ever feel this safe.
This right.
This home.
Afterward, we stay pressed close for a long time, foreheads touching as we catch our breath and our burning skin begins to cool.
Finally, I pull back, gazing into her eyes.
Eyes that don’t even try to hide their secrets.
“I like you like this,” I whisper, brushing her hair from her damp forehead with my knuckles.
She catches my wrist and kisses the inside, quick and soft. “Me, too. You should stay.”
“I will,” I promise.
That’s all I want.
To stay here. With her.
Maybe for the rest of my life.
Later, after we’ve eaten grilled cheese, leaned against the island in her kitchen…
After I’ve fucked her on the island, as well, and again in the shower, driving into her from behind until her knees buckle, and I have to hold her upright through what she later swears was the most intense orgasm of her life.
After I’ve preened about being the “best orgasm giver,” and been thoroughly teased, we climb under the covers, listening to one of Charlotte’s favorite instrumental albums drifting from the speakers hidden in the recesses of her tray ceiling.
“This is beautiful,” I murmur. “Who’s it by again?”
She doesn’t answer. I glance down to see her features already slack with sleep. She’s dead to the world, but her fingers still curl lightly into my T-shirt, as if to make sure I don’t run off while she’s unconscious.
I have zero intentions of running off.
I press a kiss to her hair, breathing in the scent of soap, shampoo, and the warm, perfect, faintly sweet smell of Charlotte.
My girl.
She really is mine now. I can feel it in my gut, in the way everything tight and fearful in me has unfurled and faded away. No, we still haven’t gotten around to “the talk,” but we will. And when we do, she’ll agree there’s no choice but to lock each other down and make this fake relationship the real deal.
I yawn, nearly as exhausted as she is, but wanting to let Bea know I won’t be home before I pass out.
I reach for my cell on the bedside table, doing my best not to wake Charlotte as I quickly text my sister—Staying over at Char’s. Call if you need anything. Leaving ringer on just in case. Be back first thing in the morning.
I don’t expect Beatrice to still be awake, but before I can set the phone down, a response swoops through—No need to rush on my account. I can make my own breakfast. Stay. Enjoy .
I thumb out—Okay. Maybe. If you’re sure.
I’m sure, she shoots back without missing a beat. And I’m happy for you, Bay. I’m so glad you found someone as wonderful as you are.
Chest tightening, I reply—Thanks. Why are you still up? Everything okay?
Totally okay. Great, actually—She adds a peacefully beaming emoji, then—I’m writing a song. A duet. Tonight was inspiring. It reminded me how much fun it can be to sing with someone who puts the music first.
I’m glad, I reply, fighting a yawn as I add, Can’t wait to hear it. Text you in the morning to let you know what time I’ll be home. Sleep well.
You too, she says, followed by a gif of two cartoon cats getting it on in a position straight out of the Kama Sutra.
Fighting a snort of laughter, I set my phone down and relax into the mattress, grinning up at the ceiling like a fool.