Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
He knows the answer. He knows I’ve completely lost myself in him.
Does he want an honest answer? Or is he asking me to save him?
“No,” I whisper.
Gripping the top of his unbuttoned jeans, Zach pushes them down his hips just enough to free himself. He covers my body with his and kisses me with renewed vigor. My knees draw to my chest as he fills me, so warm, so mind-blowing because I never really thought this would happen.
Pause.
Breathe.
Hold on to my fucking heart because he’s unknowingly attempting to destroy it.
We move with a manic desperation, like his whole body would crawl inside mine if it could. The slapping of skin, the sharp breaths and intoxicated moans … the deafening pounding of my heart. I dig one heel into his glute and the other heel into the back of his leg as if I can hold him to me forever.
Mine.
My Zach.
My husband.
Instead of drowning in guilt when I lose control of my body, surrendering every last ounce of pleasure to him, I let my vision blur with slow, heavy blinks while melting into a bliss unlike anything I have ever felt.
Zach stills, cupping the back of my head like he’s trying to protect it, protect the stitches. Then he rolls us, kissing me as my hair falls around his face. I feel his lips curl into a smile against mine. And I do the same.
Ghosting his hands up the back of my dress, he sits up, taking me with him, my legs straddling him as he stays deep inside of me. And once again, we move together.
We kiss.
My hands grip his shirt as his frame my jaw. Our kiss gains momentum and urgency. It’s a pursuit of something. He’s the predator, and I am the prey, willingly surrendering to the chase.
I want Zach to catch me … I want him to devour me.
“Emersyn …” His hands fall to my hips, gripping me hard while burying his face into my neck.
I grind into him several more times until my back arches, until he jerks his hips while repeating my name like he’s praying, pleading, begging …
Emersyn … Emersyn … Em-er-synnn …
We still.
There’s no space between us for reality to slide in and ruin the moment. I won’t regret this. I can’t.
He kisses my neck while one hand returns to my breast, lightly cupping it, his thumb tracing my nipple.
It’s gentle.
It’s intimate.
It’s a little heartbreaking.
Can he touch me there without thinking of her?
Zach lifts his head, his face hovering a breath from mine—cheeks redden. The hint of a vulnerable smile bends his beautiful lips.
“I like how you feel … right here … inside of me,” I whisper, heat flaming my own cheeks while my hand snakes between us. I hold my breath. And I think he holds his too. I don’t know why I want to feel us there. Maybe it’s still too unbelievable, and I need something more tangible.
“Yeah?” He sighs a tiny chuckle before dropping his forehead to my shoulder like he doesn’t have the energy to hold his head up any longer. At the same time, his hand slips from my breast to my hip again.
“Yeah,” I murmur, ghosting my lips along his ear.
“I like … this too. So fucking much.”
It’s too much. I can’t possibly construct a wall big enough to protect my heart.
“We should uh … piece ourselves back together before the driver comes looking for us,” I say.
Zach still doesn’t lift his head, but he mumbles, “Uh-huh.”
On the way back to the hotel, we sit in silence, fingers intertwined on the seat between us. I wonder what he’s thinking? Does he regret it? Is he thinking of Suzie, or is he thinking that I should stay with him for the full three days? Maybe spend the rest of the time in bed? I didn’t think I was a hotel person, but Zach could persuade me to stay naked in bed for eternity. My lips press together to hide my excitement over that possibility.
Zach shifts his body, and I glance over at him. His fingers fish for something in his pocket. Tension steals his face, trenching deep lines by his eyes and along his brow as he releases my hand and searches his other pocket.
“Zach?”
Unfastening his seat belt, he doesn’t answer. He fishes in his back pockets and then both front pockets one more time. “Fuck. Turn around!” he barks.
Our graying, fifty-something driver eyes Zach through the rearview mirror. His eyes narrow above the glasses slid halfway down his prominent nose.
“Turn the fuck around! We have to go back!”
“Zach …” I reach for his arm.
“I lost the ring. I lost my ring,” he says like he can’t breathe.
His wedding band.
“Are you sure? You put it in your pocket, right?”
“Sir, it’s late. If you want to go back tomorrow—”
“Then let me out!” Zach tries to open his door, fumbling with the lock.