Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
"Thank fuck," Ranger rumbled just a second before his lips crashed down on mine.
His arms left the tabletop, curling around me, dragging me closer until my legs had no choice but to slip open, slide around him. Then curling around his lower back, angling up my pelvis toward his, well, they did that all of their own volition.
Just like my hands gliding up his strong arms, curling around his neck.
My heart felt constricted in my chest as his teeth nipped gently at my lower lip, demanding entry, something I gave willingly, happily.
There was no uncertainty, no hesitation.
No.
Nothing had ever felt more right.
His tongue claimed mine as his body shifted, folding forward, bending me backward until my back hit the tabletop, his weight crushing down on me, braced as his arms pressed down at my sides.
My nails sank into his short, soft hair as my hips ground upward, feeling his hardness pressing against me, stoking the need, dragging a low, throaty moan from deep inside me.
His lips ripped from mine, and for one terrifying moment, I was worried he was going to stop, was going to try to make my decisions for me once again.
But his head just slanted, lips - and beard - sliding down the side of my neck, a sensation that sent a shiver through me even though my body had never felt hotter. So hot, in fact, that the soft fabric of my clothing felt scratchy, uncomfortable. So much so that there was a tangible rush of relief when his hand lifted to grab the neck of my shirt, yanking it wide, hard enough that it promised the fabric would never shrink back down, no matter how many times I washed it. But I liked it. I liked that lack of control, that overwhelming need to feel more of my skin. And he did. With his lips, with his tongue, tracing down my throat, over my clavicle, before moving away once again.
His head lifted, looking down at me, like he was making sure we were still on the same page, not wanting to push things, but giving me the say this time, not pausing because he thought I would want that.
Which was good.
Because I definitely didn't want to pause.
My body was like a live wire, sparking, threatening a fire that might consume me, consume us both even.
His hands moved downward, grabbing the hem of my shirt, slowly moving it upward, letting me fold up so he could free it from me before tossing it aside, his gaze moving down.
There had been bras. In the pile of things Miller had given Finn to bring me. The right size even. But after a while without them, I hadn't felt like putting one back on again.
So I was bare from the waist up, something he noticed immediately, gaze going to my breasts, a low rumble moving through him as he took a slow, deep breath, holding it for a long second before exhaling it with so much pressure behind that I could feel the warm breath on said breasts, something that made my nipples tweak harder.
His hands moved, pressing in just at the sides of my rib cage, thumbs moving out to stroke across the hardened nipples, the touch making me arch up off the table as the soft touch sent a stab of need to my core.
But before he touched them again, his gaze slipped lower, toward my belly, gaze darkening for a short second as his hand slid down, traced a line down the side of my healed cut.
"These need to come out," he told me, making my gaze go down to see the ugly, sharp little threads still sticking out of my skin. "Tomorrow," he added when I felt worry curl up in my stomach, like he was going to stop what we were doing to snip them, to pull them out. He was practical like that. It wouldn't exactly be out of character for him to do just that. Luckily, apparently, his desire to see more of me, feel more of me overpowered his practicality just this once, something I was incredibly grateful for.
His hands slid back up my sides, closing over my breasts, squeezing softly for a second before he bent forward again, his lips closing over my right nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth.
My hands curled, fingers sinking into the flesh above the collar of his flannel, something that made him make a humming noise around my nipple just before his teeth scraped over it, then his mouth left it as suddenly as it had claimed it, going across my chest to continue the torture on my other nipple until my body was writhing, until my hands were clawing at his shirt, trying to drag it up, all my thoughts focused on getting his bare skin pressed against mine, to feel his warmth, the hard lines of his muscles.