Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
At least she knew that Isaiah was fully invested. She really wanted to place all her trust in him; craved the security he offered, just as her cat did. They’d been without it for so long. They needed to feel they could rely on him in a way they’d never been able to rely on another.
And that, she thought, was a two-way thing. In his own way, he’d need to rely on her. And Quinley was determined that she’d give this mating her all. She’d pour into it everything she’d needed to hold back from Zaire, even as it terrified her a little that she’d be putting so much of herself out there.
“Your TM … what’s his name?” Isaiah asked.
“Zaire. Why?”
“Because as of this moment, I’m not going to refer to him as your true mate anymore. I claimed you. The word ‘mate’ will never be applied to him again where you’re concerned, not even as a reference to what fate intended him to be for you.”
Hmm, she liked that. As did her cat. “Fair enough.” She bit her lip. “What’s her name?”
“Lucinda.”
“Pretty.”
“I like yours better. And mine is way better than Zaire.”
Quinley chuckled into the kiss he slapped on her mouth.
He slid his hand from her hip to the small of her back and drew her closer. “Now sleep.”
“’Kay.” Feeling snug and warm and safer than she had in a long time, Quinley let her eyes close.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A piercing blare penetrated Isaiah’s dream, steadily clearing away the sleep motes. Flat on his back, he blindly reached out and slapped at his cell phone. As the alarm stopped, he let out a long sigh and rubbed at his face.
The sheets rustled, drawing his attention to the female who was using his other arm as a pillow. She lay on her side with her back facing him, one shoulder bare due to how baggy his tee was on her.
His focus darted straight to her brand. It was no longer raw, and the skin had reknitted. But the mark was no less distinct, and it would definitely scar.
Satisfied by that thought, Isaiah rolled into her, curling his arm around her. Her scent washed over him, and there was something … comforting about it. That scent meant something to him now. It belonged to his mate.
She still smelled faintly of him even though they’d showered after the final time he’d taken her through the night. He supposed his tee was mostly responsible for that.
Isaiah nuzzled her neck. “You awake?”
“Hm.”
He smiled. She had warned him that she wasn’t a morning person. Neither was his cat, in truth.
The feline had calmed down some. It still wasn’t happy that Isaiah had marked someone, but it did respect the meaning behind the brand. The cat understood that Quinley was theirs now.
Realizing he was idly tracing the brand with his fingertip, Isaiah felt his lips cant up. It was funny … he hadn’t thought he’d be moved by the bite. Not until they’d imprinted on one another. He hadn’t thought it would pluck at his attention or stir anything in him. But, on a basic and elemental level, the sight of it was almost enthralling.
“You need more time to wake up, that’s fine,” he said, sitting up sideways. He got to his knees, shifted aside, and rolled her onto her back.
She lifted her head, her eyelids fluttering. “What are you …?”
It took some shuffling on his part, but he was soon lying between her legs, his face level with her pussy. He didn’t respond to her question. Just got right down to eating her out.
She came fast. He’d learned the previous night that she didn’t last long during oral. Which he didn’t mind right then, because he needed to be inside her. Isaiah fucked her hard, not coming until she’d exploded a second time.
Wrung dry, he kissed her throat. “Morning.”
“It is a good morning,” she slurred. “Your tongue is a gift, your cock is a must-have, you fuck like a master, and your bed is the comfiest thing ever. I’m giving myself a mental pat on the back for mating you.”
He felt his mouth curve. “Who wouldn’t?”
A snort. “Don’t be so humble,” she deadpanned.
“I won’t.” He got out of bed, scooped her up, and carried her into the bathroom. “Come on, shower.”
“I can walk.”
“I like carrying you.”
Once they were both clean and dressed, they migrated to the kitchen. As they bustled around the room making coffee and breakfast, it didn’t feel awkward. He’d thought it might, considering it was the first morning they’d spent together, but no. Maybe it was that she was his, that this space was theirs now, that made the difference—he didn’t know.
Sitting beside him at the breakfast bar, she waved her spoon around, gesturing at the space. “I really like this kitchen.”
“Same. It was the only part of the house I didn’t change when I moved in.” Finished with his toast, he lifted his cup and shifted on the stool to better face her. “I haven’t lived here long, but I put my mark on the place real quick. You’ll no doubt want to do the same. Like I said last night, have at it.”