Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“Cavin.” She breathes against my mouth. “Christ.”
I love the way she says my name, like she can't quite believe this is happening. When she's in my arms like this, I can see the stillness on her face. And I know the constant noise in her head begins to quiet. Makes me feel ten feet tall, that.
I laugh and pull back just enough to look at her. Her lips are gently parted and cheeks flushed pink, eyes dark with want.
“Hat,” she whispers, “stays on.”
I grin at her, reaching up to adjust it on my head. “Doctor's orders, remember? Medical emergency.”
“But you were supposed to go chop wood,” she says with a wink.
“Then we need to take a trip. I don't think I have an axe or wood to chop.”
She giggles, and the sound does something to my chest, making it tight and warm and full. This woman will be the death of me, and I’ll die fucking grateful for it. Nobody makes me feel the way she does. I'm absolutely bolloxed when it comes to her—didn't know I needed it, didn't know I craved it like my next breath.
Her hands are already working at the buttons of my shirt. “Well, we can imagine, can't we?”
“Are you objectifyin’ me?” I ask with a teasing swat to her arse.
“I—” She flushes, biting her lip. She loves when I spank her. “I am. And you love it.”
I lean in, trailing kisses down her neck, finding that spot just below her ear that makes her shiver. “Behave yourself, Mrs. McCarthy,” I whisper in her ear, and she stifles a moan. She loves hearing me call her that. Tells me everything I need to know.
“Say it again.”
“Mrs. McCarthy…” I slide my hands up her thighs, pushing her skirt up. I reach the top of those damn leggings she wears every day and slide them down, over the curve of her hips, over the swell of her arse, down her thighs. “My wife. Mine.”
She kisses me, harder this time, desperate. Her fingers fumble with the last button on my shirt, and then she pushes it off my shoulders, her palms flat against my chest.
“My god, you're…” She breaks off and flushes.
“What’s that?” I cup the back of her head, kissing the apple of her cheek, her nose, her lips.
“Jaysus, Cavin,” she whispers, almost reverent. “You're fucking gorgeous. Like something out of a dream, you are.” Her fingers trace the tattoos on my ribs, the scars from fights and wars. “I love looking at you.”
Her fingertips trace the scar right above the sternum, where I got shanked in prison. Should’ve killed me, but I’ll never fuckin’ go down without a fight.
“I know you don't believe me,” she says, meeting my eyes. “But every part of you, even the parts that you think are broken, is beautiful.”
Something in my chest tears open, raw and bleeding. No one's ever called me that. Dangerous, aye. Brutal, a right bastard—but beautiful?
Her hands span my chest. “I love you,” she says, her eyes meeting mine. “I love you.” She says it like she's just discovered it, and I love the way her smile lights up her whole face.
I kiss her again, softer this time—kissing her like I can claim her with the press of my mouth against hers. My hands find the hem of the worn jumper of mine she wears—too big, roomy, but she loves it. I pull it over her head and toss it aside.
She wears a simple white bra, nothing fancy, but she's the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen.
“You're the beautiful one,” I tell her, trailing my fingers along the edge of the lace. “Just look at you. Bloody perfect.”
“I'm not—”
“You are.” I silence her protest with another kiss, my hands working the clasp of her bra before I lower it and cup her arse. “Go way outta that talk,” I warn her, my voice dropping low. “Don't let me hear you say otherwise again.” She knows she'll go over my lap for a good, hard spanking, the real kind, if she does.
She bites her lip and nods. “Okay.”
I laugh, then pull back to look at her properly. Erin and her “okays” will never not make me laugh.
Christ, but she's stunning. All soft curves and flushed skin, her nipples tight and begging for my mouth.
“Cavin.” She tries to cover herself, suddenly shy.
“Don't you fucking dare.” I catch her wrists and pin them to her sides. “Let me look at you. Let me see what's mine.”
She shivers, but doesn't fight. Just watches me with those big eyes as I take my time, memorizing every inch of her.
“I like what I see. So fucking beautiful,” I murmur, leaning down to take one nipple in my mouth.
She gasps, her back arching, hands flying into my hair, knocking that hat askew. I pull back with a grin. “Careful, love. You made that for me. You wouldn't want to ruin it now, would you?”