Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
After a moment I pull away. My hands press against his chest, just to put distance there. I part my lips to thank him or apologize or something, but he stops it all, every word, every thought with the way he looks down at me.
“If you need me to hold you, tell me. I can do that. I like holding you.”
Nodding, I climb out of his lap and retake my spot. It’s so overwhelming my hands tremble when I grab the fork.
“Is everything okay?” I ask him, feeling a vulnerability that threatens to dismantle me.
He nods and then clears his throat. “I think so. So long as you still want to be mine.”
Nodding, I tell him I do. It feels like I’m on the cusp of falling. Part of me instinctually craves whatever Declan will give me, while the other part wants to run because it’s obvious there’s no going back from this.
“Can we eat?” I suggest in a murmur, pushing the rice around with my fork.
“I need to know if that’s it, Braelynn.”
“I think that’s it.”
“Are you all right?” Nodding, I do what I can to stay upright and just breathe. “You’re intense, Declan.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
It’s silent for a long moment while we pick away at the food slowly, and I can hardly stand it. All the while I want to kiss him, to touch him. But I don’t.
“You have questions for me?” he asks, having barely eaten and sitting back on the sofa.
I swallow a bite of fried rice. “When was the last time you had a girlfriend?”
He huffs a laugh that breaks the tension and I peek over at him, his smile soothing something inside of me. A simper pulls at my lips.
“Never.” He watches me lift the fork to my lips again. “Is that what you think this is?”
I don’t know how to respond. I don’t know what to think of us at all. Maybe we’re just two broken pieces trying to fit together, but cutting each other instead.
“I think what this is and what we are … requires me to open that bottle of wine,” I suggest, taking a deep, steadying breath.
“I think we need something …” Declan agrees, his gaze roaming down my body. There’s an immediate warmth from the hungry look he gives me. His shoulders straighten when he tells me, “Take your clothes off, I don’t want to ruin them.”
Standing abruptly, he leaves me sitting there, speechless and paralyzed as he takes long strides to the kitchen. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warns and I’m quick to strip my sleep shirt off.
I can hear him rattling around, and he reappears a minute later with the bottle of wine in his hand. “What I want,” he stresses as he sets the bottle down and then clears off the coffee table, “is to get drunk off of you.”
“Lie down,” he commands and I do as he says without thinking twice. In a swift move, he takes his shirt off over his head. The sight of his rippled muscles, the evidence of his powerful body, brings out a primal need.
I’m naked, trembling, wanting him and Declan comes to stand over me. He opens the bottle of wine, his eyes flashing. “Open your mouth, like a good little pet.”
A shiver of desire comes over me as his hand rests on the dip in my hip, so close to where I need him.
I obey, and he tips the bottle over my lips. Wine flows directly into my mouth, but he doesn’t let me drink much of it. He moves the bottle over my body, letting wine splash on my skin, and I shiver from the contact. Declan’s on his knees a second later. His hand slips between my thighs as he licks up the bit of wine.
His tongue is rough and hot on my flesh, moving over sensitive areas, licking and licking until he’s had all the wine. My nipples harden and a wave of desire rushes to my most sensitive bits. My hand flies to his hair, and he tsks.
“Now, now, be a good girl. You know better,” he gentles his tone with these words and I nod, placing a hand on each edge of the coffee table.
He runs his nose down my navel and then lower before kissing just above my clit, teasing me and forcing me to protest in a small moan. He chuckles, deep and masculine, the warmth of it keeping me on edge.
In between openmouthed kisses, he pours more wine that pools to my navel, sucking it up and then giving me more. He toys with my body, swirling his tongue over my nipples, nipping and biting. More often than not, I’m given the wine and he devours my body without it until his hands are on my inner thighs, parting my legs. He groans against my clit before licking and sucking it into his mouth.