Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Kane, although he hadn’t known me for long—four days, was it only that?—seemed to understand that the single word wasn’t a simple question.
He stared at me, still toying with my hair. “Because, Chef, I’ve never tasted anything like what you cook. Never looked into someone’s eyes and wanted to drown in them. And I’ve never felt more anchored to this hunk of rock than when my hand is on you. When I’m inside you.”
My chair screeched as he snatched me from it. I was straddling him in a couple of heartbeats. He was already hard.
“You’re addicting, Chef,” he murmured, lips brushing mine. “And I’m not at all mad about that.”
Then he kissed me. Hungry, claiming, without reservation.
I kissed him back with the same fervor, grinding against him.
He stood without obvious effort, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his hips. Never breaking the kiss, he walked us through my apartment.
“Though I plan on fucking you on every surface of this apartment, I think we’ll be conventional and start with the bed,” he growled against my mouth. “My woman’s had a long day, and she needs comfort. And multiple orgasms.”
“I should shower,” I gasped as he threw me down on the bed. “I’ve been working all day.”
The past few nights, I hadn’t thought about the reality of sleeping with Kane after such long days, but I was suddenly self-conscious. He didn’t shy away from oral sex, from inhaling my scent, and surely it couldn’t be … pleasant.
“We’ll shower.” Kane bared his teeth. “Together.” He leaned over to take off my pants then inhaled me over my panties. “But I like this smell. Fucking love it. I’ll show you just how much.”
And he did.
Then we showered.
And it wasn’t until I was just falling asleep in his arms when I realized he’d referred to me as ‘his woman.’
Six
A banging on the door filtered through my unconscious brain.
I was warm. Comfortably toasty. Encased in Kane’s arms, as I had been the entire night. His grip didn’t even relax in his sleep; he held me tight to him although I could feel that he was still asleep by the even cadence of his breath. How he was sleeping through the banging, I didn’t know. Then again, if he lived in New York for any extended period of time, he was likely used to loud and strange noises at any point of the night. I also had the inkling that Kane didn’t live a quiet life in general, therefore, he was used to noise.
I didn’t exactly live a quiet life either, but as a rule, I slept lightly. That rule was challenged these past nights with Kane, as I’d slept deeper than I had in recorded memory. Of course, that also could’ve been because he had fucked me into sheer exhaustion.
The banging didn’t let up, nor did Kane rouse.
“I know you’re in there; I tracked your phone!” a voice boomed throughout the two rooms of my apartment, coming through the front door. A familiar voice.
I sighed, knowing she’d never let up.
I carefully pulled myself out of Kane’s arms. He tensed for a split second before making a sleepy groan and turning over to push his face into the pillow.
Though there was the urgency of the banging and the yelling, I couldn’t help but take a beat to admire Kane. He was now splayed on my bed, his large body taking up the entire surface. His hair brushed over his face, features completely and utterly relaxed. The sheet barely covered his naked body, exposing the muscular skin of his arms and torso, peppered with both scars and tattoos. His tattoos were haphazard, chaotic without rhythm or sense, different styles, different vibes, different messages.
There was an intricate image of a man riding a bull in exquisite detail, a crudely drawn knight holding a sword, a snake eating its own tail, a straight razor dripping with blood. A motorcycle. Just to name a few.
It should’ve looked messy and incoherent, but it only made him all the more impressive and wild. He’d told me about some of them, the cruder ones were from bets he lost. Which showed who Kane was. He’d put ink on his skin for life because he lost a bet.
I felt a stab of envy toward him in that moment, the freedom he must enjoy, feasting on life. I felt a stab of envy toward whomever was going to end up with him. It surely wasn’t going to be me. This … thing, whatever we were, was going to be short-lived. We were much too different to survive beyond the wild sex and pasta at two a.m. phase. I had to remember that Kane was a man who obviously jumped into experiences with both feet, and those experiences burned bright and hot, but something—someone—would come around to capture his attention again.