Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
He dips inside me and pulls back to watch my reaction. His chocolatey eyes are glazed with goodness, as if the view has drawn his emotions to the surface. Anchored to the counter, I sink lower on his finger, letting my head drop back, and my lips fall apart from each other.
One of his hands tugs the collar to the side to seek more exposure while the other adds another finger and thrusts in again. “It feels so good, too good. Don’t stop.” He doesn’t, giving me what I ache for over again until my body moves of its own accord while pushing toward the precipice of relief.
His own moans mingle with mine as my body, slick with need, is heard. He pumps harder, a grit to his breath in my ear. I beg, “Please. So close. God, Keats. So—ahhh.” I fall to pieces beneath him. His lips heated against my skin, the pad of his palm pressed to my clit, and the feel of him inside me is all-consuming, leaving my body tremoring to completion. And when I’m left drifting among the stars, my body goes limp under him.
I release a long breath and slowly regain myself in this realm. His eyes are set on mine, but you would have thought he’d come by how the corners are lackadaisical, like the corners of my eyes feel. I caress his cheek and sigh with all the swoons of being utterly satisfied in the tone of it. “Hi,” I whisper, grinning.
He drops his head to my shoulder and says, “I fucking came.”
Laughter is the best medicine as it ripples through me. I wrap my arms around him and stroke the back of his head. “I’ll take the compliment.”
Looking up at me, he’s now grinning, too. “You should.” Kissing me gently, he confesses, “I was always weak to you, Spark.”
CHAPTER 23
SOSIE
Weakness is something to overcome.
I can’t count how many times I heard my father say that if I dared to cry in front of him. I like Keats’s version better, and he’s not wrong. I’m weak to him, and nothing is wrong with that. I’m starting to believe we were built for each other. It’s a nice thought anyway.
The day broke hours ago, the sun sneaking in through the smallest cracks of the shades hanging down. I glance over at the clock on the nightstand and regret it the moment I do. 10:23 a.m. Less than six hours ago, I was recovering from the pleasure Keats brought me on the bathroom counter while he showered. When he peered out to invite me in, I wasn’t turning him down for anything. We finished cleaning up and fell into bed right after.
The sheets are soft against the newly exposed skin of my neck, reminding me of my haircut. The lightness pulls a smile into place as giddiness zips up my spine. I grip the covers over my mouth to keep my joy from waking him.
Peeking over at him once more, I untangle my legs from his and slip out of bed backward. I go into the bathroom and start to close the door until it squeaks. I freeze, but then check to see if Keats reacts before deciding it’s safer to leave it open.
I take a long look in the mirror, oscillating my head just to feel the brush of my hair tickle my neck. Turning around, I try to get a glimpse of the back, but I can’t really see it. I know it’s uneven, considering how it was cut, but for some odd reason, I’m not bothered by it. This hair feels more me than any other style I’ve had in the past six years.
“Sosie?” The urgency in his voice has me running to the doorway.
“What?”
Keats fell back on the bed in relief, his hand over his heart like it was about to leave him. When he drapes his arm across his forehead, he closes his eyes and says, “I thought you had left.” The hint of panic and the tinge of frustration are heard through his words, but it’s his body that gives him away. “Last time, you were gone before I woke up.”
My heart sinks at how that must have made him feel. “I was only using the bathroom.” I climb back in bed with him and cuddle up to his side. After placing a kiss on his chest, I draw figure eights over his incredible abs. They’re as hard as steel, like they don’t know how to relax and take a day off.
When his arm comes around me, he leans over to kiss my head. “You never returned.”
“I did. I just took a few detours to get here.” I caress his face, running the tips of my fingers over the dusting of scruff that appeared overnight. “I’m here now, Poet.”