Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
I feel a flush of desire race up my neck. I swallow hard trying to chase away the lump that is there in my throat. Even if I wanted to respond, I doubt that any sound that escapes me right now would resemble anything other than a deep and uncontrollable moan.
The car lurches to a stop but I'm so mesmerized by the way he's looking at me that I don't move an inch. I don't want to. I've never been this close to a man like this and I've definitely never had a man look at me the way he is right now.
"You're home." He leans in closer. "Let me be the first to wish you a happy birthday."
I catch my breath as his head dips towards me. I moan faintly and just as I begin to close my eyes, I feel his lips brush against my cheek.
"Happy Birthday, Isla," he says in a whisper against my skin. "May it be the best year of your life."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Gabriel
Her skin smells like perfection. I linger once I've kissed her cheek, knowing that I need to step out of the car so I can walk her into the building.
We're still, so still. Her breathing is ragged and fast. My lips still resting against her, my hands fisted in a visible sign of the internal struggle I'm fighting.
I want her.
I want to kiss her beautiful lips.
I want to fuck her sweet, lush body.
"Mr. Foster." Her voice is so soft that I can barely hear her. "Gabriel, please."
Please.
Her hand moves from her lap to my forearm. She grips the material of my jacket in her fist before she releases it. I tremble as I feel it move up my bicep, my shoulder and then finally, it rests against the back of my neck.
It's an invitation; just as the sound of her breathing is. Just as the movement of her thighs against the leather, as she parts them a touch, is.
Her hand glides higher, stopping as it reaches the base of my hair. Her fingers float along my skin, softly, so softly.
"Please." It's my voice this time. I don't beg. I won't beg.
Fuck it. I will beg for her.
Her hand knots in the bottom of my hair as she arches her neck, slides her lips along my cheek and finally, finally I taste her on my mouth.
I groan into the kiss as her soft lips push into mine. I slide my tongue into her mouth, wanting to savor her in any way I can.
My reward is the sweetest of moans along with the faint sound of her moving on the leather seat of the car.
I tug her into my lap so she's facing me, her thighs straddling mine. I hear my phone ringing in the distance. It's not important. It can't be important. Nothing is as important as this.
She adjusts herself, grinding into my erection through my pants. My chest heaves at the sensation. I've never come just from the stimulation of a woman's body or hands on my cock. It's always taken a greedy mouth or a slick pussy to get me off. I've never orgasmed like this, yet now, I know that I could.
I feel I might if she doesn't stop moving.
"Isla." I run my hands up her thighs, pushing the skirt of her dress higher. "Your skin is so soft."
My phone rings again. This time the brittle bite of it halts her movements.
"It might be important." Her breath touches my lips in the instant before her lips do.
I shake my head gripping her thighs tighter. She pushes her panties into my crotch, circling, baiting, wanting.
"You're a beautiful woman," I whisper as I look down at her thighs. "Every part of you is beautiful."
Her breath hitches as I push the dress even higher, revealing the sheer black panties she's wearing.
"Jesus, Isla." I move my left hand, inching it up her thigh.
A brash knock on the privacy glass startles her so much she leans back almost tumbling from my lap. My hands jump to her waist, pulling her into my chest.
"What?" I bark. "What is it, Charles?"
The glass lowers not more than an inch. "Mr. Foster, I apologize."
My phone rings again. I look down at where it's vibrating in the inner pocket of my jacket. "What's going on, Charles? I assume your interruption is related to these incessant calls."
"It's your mother, sir," he says loudly. His voice tempered by the glass. "She's been taken to the hospital."
***
I step into the Emergency Department and I'm immediately overcome with a sense of impending doom. There are no reporters demanding a statement. I didn't pass one photographer in the lobby trying to gain access to my mother's room.
This is the third time this year that my mother has complained of chest pains. Each of the previous two times, she had on full makeup when she arrived via ambulance. It hadn't taken more than an hour for the doctors to determine that it was anxiety causing her discomfort.