Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“We’re flying somewhere?” she asks, panic flickering in her eyes.
“Yes,” I reply, amused.
She huffs, but smiles. “I don’t like surprises, Damien.”
“You’ll like this one.”
When we board, the crew greets us with drinks. Lyra settles into the leather seat beside me, pulling a soft blanket over her lap, her eyes darting between me and the sky beyond the windows.
“Is this your move?” she asks. “You sleep with a gal and then whisk her off to a romantic getaway?”
“You’re the first ‘gal’ who’s made it past one night,” I say, looking into her eyes so the words will land.
Her eyes go soft, and I know she feels this thing between us, too.
“Why?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Because you’re different. Because I care about you,” I say, trying to ignore the heat growing in my chest.
She doesn’t say anything to that, too overcome with emotion to speak. Instead, she slides closer, and we hold hands as we ascend into the sky.
A few hours later, we touch down in the Bahamas, and Lyra clutches my hand.
“I smell the ocean,” she says, excitement bright in her voice.
“Wait until you see it,” I tell her. “We haven’t quite gotten to our destination yet.”
She looks at me warily as I guide her across the tarmac to the private helicopter waiting for us.
“This is too much,” she says, stopping. “What have you done?”
“It’s really nothing,” I answer casually. “This is how I would vacation on my own. Just relax and let me spoil you.”
She watches me with a look I can’t decipher, but my words must win out, because I see her shoulders lower and she takes my hand. Less than an hour later, we’re touching down at the villa on my private island.
The sun is bright, casting gold across the water as we step off the helicopter. I haven’t used the place in a while, but my staff has kept it in pristine condition. Lyra stares at the beach, the palms, the curve of the private villa nestled into the hill behind us. The wind tugs strands of her hair loose, salt on the breeze, and she turns to me slowly.
“You went through all this trouble for me?”
“It wasn’t any trouble at all.” I shrug.
This time, she takes my hand without hesitation as I lead her up the path, her fingers fitting into mine like they belong there. Maybe the distance I felt was all in my head. This just feels right.
I show her to her room, then leave her to settle in while I make a call to Alek to confirm everything back home is quiet. When I return, she’s standing barefoot on the deck, the breeze tugging at the hem of the sundress she’s changed into, her arms folded lightly across her stomach as she watches the waves.
“Are you okay?” I ask, stepping up beside her.
“I’m just taking it all in,” she says with a warm smile. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Good,” I say, taking a step toward her. “That’s the point.”
She looks up at me, and for the first time in weeks, her smile is real and uncomplicated.
I kiss her soft and slow, my hand slipping around her waist, and she doesn’t resist. She presses every inch of her body against mine, and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
As things turn heated, I walk her backward toward my bedroom, kissing her the entire way. She follows without resistance, fingers unfastening the buttons of my shirt, one by one, until it’s hanging open and she pushes it off my shoulders. I shrug it to the floor and don’t stop moving until her legs hit the edge of the bed.
I lift her up and she gasps, wrapping her arms around my neck. I lower her onto the mattress slowly and carefully, afraid to shatter this moment. She looks up at me from the pillows, her chest rising fast, her dress pushed up around her thighs. I brace myself over her, one hand on the bed beside her head, the other smoothing up her leg.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” I whisper. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me,” she challenges.
So I do. I start with her mouth, kissing her until she melts into me. Then I move down, tracing the line of her jaw, the column of her throat, the curve of her shoulder. She arches when I reach her chest, and I work the straps of her dress until I can push the top down. She lies there, exposed to me, and I take my time lavishing her perfect breasts, letting her feel and experience every ounce of desire I have for her. I want to make her feel so unbelievably good she cannot even form a coherent sentence.
She sighs and moves under me, her hands in my hair, her legs wrapping around my hips. I slide her dress higher, then off, baring inch after inch of golden skin. When she’s naked beneath me, I take my time just looking. I want to memorize her like this. Her eyes are half-lidded, her lips parted, and her body trembles with need.