Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Your hands are beautiful. Do you know that?”
I look at my very ordinary hands. “Well, no,” I admit. “They look pretty damn ordinary to me.”
“Ordinary,” he scoffs. “You could hand model.”
“Hand model? Sounds dirty.”
He chuckles. “We could make it dirty.” Then he sobers. “But there’s only one thing that would make your hand even prettier.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I suspect, and my heart begins to race.
“Oh?” I ask in a quiet voice. I’m afraid if I speak too loudly, I’ll somehow ruin this moment, and I want to savor it, just like I want to savor every moment with him. Every damn moment.
I go still when he reaches for his pocket and takes out a little black box.
“Stefan…”
I can’t say anything more than his name. I’m all choked up and staring at the small cube in his hand. He opens the box and stares at it for a moment, before spinning it around to show me.
“This,” he says, his own voice all choked. “What do you think, Taara?”
“About the box?” I ask on a whisper.
He grins and tugs a lock of my hair.
“Marry me, Taara? Will you?”
“Yes,” I whisper. I can’t imagine life with anyone other than him. I’ve loved him for so long, and never dreamed I would actually mean as much to him as he does me. And this seems so natural. So perfect and right.
“I love you,” he says, sliding the beautiful diamond on my finger. Then he leans down and kisses me.
“And I love you.”
I can’t stop staring at the ring. There are so many things I still need to ask him, things we’ll discuss and debate and get to the bottom of. Over time. Right now, this is utter perfection. Though a part of my heart left me when my mother died, I found a part of me I didn’t know existed when I became Stefan’s. And I love him. I love him so damn much it makes me ache.
Chapter 22
Stefan
When I put the ring on her finger, and she looks up at me with those wide, eager eyes, I nearly lose my mind.
Taara Khan is mine.
I love her. I love her with every fiber of my being. I’ve done shit I’m not proud of, and we fought hard to get to where we are. But I’ll spend every damn day for the rest of my life showing her how much she means to me.
“Christ, I love you, woman,” I say to her, pulling her to me and kissing her so that her head drops back and she moans out loud.
“And I love you,” she whispers.
My hands are at her top and I’m pulling the t-shirt off, and soon she’s lying before me wearing nothing but a bra and her panties. I kiss her cheeks, her mouth, her forehead, her eyelids, the sweet spot on her neck that makes her ticklish, the top of each breast and the sweet, gentle slope of her belly.
Now that she’s agreed to be mine, I have to claim her. I want to be in her.
I strip out of my own t-shirt and jeans and flip her over onto her belly. I feel such a sudden, overwhelming need to make her mine I can’t wait for formalities or sweet seduction. I want to fuck this woman, and I want to do it now.
“On your knees,” I order, giving her full, voluptuous ass a hard swat when she doesn’t move quickly enough. “Spread those legs for daddy.”
She grips the thick bedspread between her fingers, and the light catches the diamond on her finger. If she had any idea how much that thing was worth, she’d lose her mind, but she’ll never know. She’s worth it. She’s worth that and so much fucking more.
Obediently she falls to her chest and spreads her legs. I tangle my fingers in her hair and yank her head back until she squeals and moans. I push the head of my cock through her slick folds and groan when I find her wet and ready.
“I love you, Taara,” I say as I slam into her and she arches her back with a sweet, seductive moan.
“And I love you,” she breathes.
I slap her ass and pound into her, and she braces herself and welcomes me. She’s perfect. So fucking perfect. Brave and strong, self-giving and brilliant, and able to withstand me when I’m at my most ruthless. I’ll never hurt her. Never again. But I won’t hide who I am or what I do, and she loves me anyway.
She loves me anyway.
She moans while I thrust in and out, her pleasure building on mine until she screams her release. I’m on her heels, and with a grunt and final savage tug of her hair, I come. It’s utter fucking perfection when she comes a second time, harder and longer this time.