Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Her eyes widen slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. But I don’t wait to see if she’ll obey. I reach for my own shirt, tugging it over my head in one swift motion. The fabric falls to the floor, followed quickly by the rest of my clothes, each piece stripped away with a sense of urgency I can’t control.
I turn toward the bathroom, my hands pushing the door open. “Don’t make me wait,” I call over my shoulder, the words coming out sharper than I intended. “You’ll be sorry if you do.”
The water runs cold at first, biting against my skin and making me shiver as I step under the spray. Gradually, it warms, the heat seeping into my muscles. It feels good—too good—but it doesn’t quell the fire burning inside me. The anticipation is a steady thrum in my veins, an ache that no amount of steam or scalding heat can erase.
I stand there for a few minutes, letting the water cascade over me, my head tilted forward, eyes closed, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of the droplets against my shoulders. I’m burning. Burning for her.
Then I feel it—a cold burst of air sweeping in as the bathroom door opens. I don’t have to turn around to know she’s entered. The sound of the door clicking shut behind her sends a shiver down my spine, though the heat of the water keeps my skin aflame. The anticipation is unbearable.
When I finally turn, the sight of her hits me like a physical force. She stands just a few feet away, her damp hair falling in dark waves around her face, completely naked.
In the yellow light of the bathroom, her skin glistens still with droplets of rain. She’s breathtaking—every inch of her. On her pert, high breasts, her nipples have hardened into delicious peaks, their soft pink hue practically begging for my touch. My gaze travels down, over the elegant curve of her slender arms and the taut lines of her toned stomach, down to the gentle flare of her hips.
My mind is a swirling storm of raw desire. I tell myself to look away, to pull back before I fall too far, but I can’t. My eyes are locked on her, tracing every detail, committing every inch of her to memory as though I’ll never see her like this again.
Her gaze is unwavering, fearless. There’s something in her eyes that shakes me—a quiet strength, a vulnerability she doesn’t attempt to hide, and an intensity that mirrors my own. The way she looks at me makes my blood roar, makes every muscle in my body tense with need and my chest ache. My mouth dries and my hands clench at my sides, resisting the overwhelming urge to reach for her, to feel the softness of her skin under my palms, to claim her.
She tilts her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. I don’t know how she does it—how she manages to unravel me with a single look. It’s infuriating and intoxicating all at once. It’s shocking how much power she has over me.
Her eyes move over me, slow and deliberate, like she’s taking her time to commit every detail to memory. Her gaze trails downward, over the hard planes of my chest, the muscles slick and glistening under the water, down to the sharp line of my hips and lower. Her eyes linger there. My cock hardens even more till it is curved and leaning towards my navel.
“Like what you see?” I ask, my voice low and rough.
Her eyes snap back to mine. “I do,” she says simply.
CHAPTER 19
RAVEN
Water cascades over Earl’s taut shoulders, dripping down his chest and along the lean lines of his body. He doesn’t move, but his eyes devour me from afar. It’s as though he’s daring me to come closer, to break the barrier he’s so carefully erected between us.
The heat of the shower wraps around us, steam curling in the sizable stall.
I’m trembling—partly from the desire that’s been simmering under my skin all day long, partly from the emotions twisting inside me. My mind is full of the memory of the ravenous desperation with which he kissed me earlier—God, he kissed me like a starving man. It made me breathless and filled my heart with hope. But he stopped suddenly, as though terrified of what might happen if he let it go any further.
Now, as he watches me, I see that war inside him again. The way he loathes me, yet can’t seem to stay away. It’s that obvious hesitation, that struggle, that is what gives me courage. Maybe one day he’ll break and tell me why he pushes me away so vehemently. Why is he so furious at me?
But right now, all I want is him. To feel him. To let this tension between us snap.