Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
He sinks his middle finger inside me and his expression contracts. “Aw, pretty girl, you’re burnin’ up. So hot and tight.”
I pull him in for a hungry kiss. My eyes roll to the back of my head behind my closed eyelids when he presses the heel of his palm to my clit. At the same time, he slips another finger inside me. The pressure is unreal.
Unreal, and wonderful.
He curls his fingers so that he’s pressing against my G-spot. My hips begin to rock as sensation rises through my core, a tight spiraling that scatters my thoughts and clears my head. I am one huge, throbbing heartbeat, and I lose myself in the joy of just being.
I lose myself in Sawyer’s kiss and his touch, the way he knows how to handle me with just the right amount of urgency and roughness. He kisses me like the world is ending, drinking me in deeply as he grinds his palm against my clit.
I press into his touch, dying for more friction. He trails his mouth over my cheek and jaw and onto my neck, kissing me there while I ride his hand. The pressure in my core is sweetly painful.
“Oh, honey,” I pant, curling my fingernails into the hair at the nape of his neck. “I like this.”
“You like me,” he growls, sending a hot gust of air over my throat. “Only me.”
The swift, heady sense of relief—of arousal—that swoops through me at his words takes me off guard. My heart is lodged somewhere in my throat.
All my talk of freedom. My adamant belief that commitment leads to the death of self. Yet here I am, turned on to an absurd degree by Sawyer staking his claim on me.
By Sawyer’s insinuation that we’re exclusive.
Is that what I want? I think wildly. Can I be free and faithful at the same time?
The orgasm tears through me. I yell his name on the hood of his Chevy like the animal I am. My toes curl inside my boots as I hold Sawyer against me in a death grip. He laughs into my neck as I come, and come, and come.
When I finally float back to earth, I ease my grip and open my eyes. Sawyer’s looking at me. The expression in his gaze—tender, adoring—has my heart falling a hundred stories.
A beat of stillness passes between us as he searches my gaze and I search his.
I’m falling for you, my pulse thunders. So fast and so hard that it’s terrifying. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared, but I can’t stay away.
Maybe because freedom and fidelity don’t seem like such mutually exclusive concepts with Sawyer, the way they were with Dan.
The idea shakes me to my core. I’m shaking.
Sawyer loops his arm around my middle and pulls me against him, saying in my ear, “I’m right here, pretty girl. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay.” I’m embarrassed by how choked up I am. Part of me wants to smile. I am smiling.
Another part wants to cry. So I do. Tears silently streak down my face. I wait for Sawyer to pull away. To tell me to get it together.
But Dan was the one who’d do that. Sawyer just holds me until my heart rate evens out.
“You called me honey,” he says.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I already know the answer, but just to be sure, I still ask, “Too much?”
“That’s how you taste, you know.” Pulling back to look at me, he slips his fingers into his mouth, his tongue making an obscene smacking noise as he licks them. “Like honey.”
“You’re rude.”
“You don’t mind.”
My face hurts from smiling so hard. My eyes feel tired from tears. I press my finger into his dimple. “Not one bit.”
“Can I feed you now? Real food.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. The tenderness of the gesture turns the stuff inside my chest to mush. He is absolutely not turned off by my show of vulnerability, and that fact hits me in the back of my knees, making me feel lightheaded and swoony.
“I’ve got quite the spread if I do say so myself.”
I blink back the burn in my eyes. “I’d love that, yes.”
“Hey.” Crooking his finger underneath my chin, he tips up my face. “You okay?”
God, why can’t this guy get at least one thing wrong? Why can’t he be, I don’t know, dismissive of my feelings, or at the very least turned off by how emotional I’m getting? Most guys I know would be hightailing it out of here right now. But Sawyer is staying.
He’s listening.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Not to get too deep here—I know this is our first date—”
“I like deep.”
Of course you do.
He grins, cupping my face in the warm mitt of his hand. I tilt my head so I can lean into his touch. I even place my hand over his.