Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“What happened?” Chase dropped onto his heels to get a better look at the scar.
He ran a finger over the skin, and I shivered. When he looked up at me, I had to bite down my desire at the sight of him on his knees before me.
“Ice skating crash.” I swallowed at his inspection, heat pooling in all the right places with him so close. “Someone ran into me, the ice went out from under my blades, and…” I clapped my hands together to indicate the crash.
“Shit,” he said.
But he hadn’t stood up. His hand slid around to the back of my thigh. His face level with my pussy. His eyes examining the lightning-strike scar.
His gaze skirted up to mine. A silent question on his lips. Permission.
I stood there in deep-seated need at the feel of his fingers digging into my thigh and the mirrored look caught in his irises. What was I doing? I’d only known him for a matter of hours. And here he was, on his knees in front of me, and I’d thrown out the entire rule book in his presence. I was a sex-positive type of girl. I always encouraged my girlfriends to have all the fun they wanted. You’re only young once! But there was giving advice and taking advice.
Was I insane for wanting this? For nodding and giving him the green light?
Permission granted.
His lips quirked upward, and then they were on my scar. His tongue darting out and tracing the line of my hip, where ice had carved a hole out of my skin.
A soft exhale escaped my lips. Not quite a moan, but fuck, if he’d kissed me anywhere else, I might have come undone right then and there.
His eyes were on mine again as he pulled back. I wasn’t sure if I was happy that he hadn’t taken more or glad that he hadn’t pushed his luck. Because I was pretty sure he was right; luck was on his side tonight.
4
Chase
Well, I was fucking done for.
I’d known that I wanted her before she lifted her skirt up and shown me the scar on her hip. Now, I was certain that I wanted little more than to drive her home right this second. It had been years since I’d been this attracted to someone immediately. Actually, maybe it had never happened. There was a spark here that I couldn’t name or apparently deny.
As I’d just put my lips on her with nothing more than a nod of agreement. I could barely control my cock straining against my suit pants.
Her eyes were glazed when I came to my feet. I wanted to push my hands up into her hair and claim her lips. No part of me wanted to wait. I hadn’t been able to keep from kissing her hip and caressing her thigh. Would I have found her wet if I’d slid up higher?
Fuck.
Fuuuck.
“I…I…” She stammered over her words as she dropped her skirt. “I don’t think anyone has ever looked that close at my scar.”
I wouldn’t mind getting an even closer look, if I was honest. But I had so many questions for this siren who had wrapped a fist around my heart.
“Well, you offered the perfect view.”
She ducked her head and then met my gaze again. “Don’t know what compelled me.”
“I know that feeling,” I admitted.
She swallowed, and something passed between us—a zing of connection that I’d felt the moment our eyes locked at the ceremony. As if neither of us could stop this runaway train now that it was off the tracks.
But I could see that she didn’t know what to do with this connection any more than I did. I wanted to go fast, fast, fast, but I didn’t want to scare her.
“Do you still skate?” I asked to bring the subject back around.
She nodded. “Pretty sure it only made me more relentless.”
“I get that. In college, I took up kayaking again to get over my fear. I figured the only way out was through.”
“Exactly,” she said, gesturing emphatically. “The ice couldn’t break me.”
“Yes. My friends thought I was nuts, but I still kayak now. I love it. I take my dog, Bowie, out to Buffalo Springs Lake a lot.”
She blinked. “Bowie? Like David Bowie?”
“Yeah. He’s my favorite artist,” I said apologetically. “I know it’s dated, but…”
“You’re joking,” she gasped, nearly falling over herself.
“Uh, no?” I said hesitantly.
I never met people who understood the musical merits of David Bowie. He’d raised a generation. He’d been the sexual awakening of men and women alike. He was an icon. I would never accept Bowie slander.
“I was literally just listening to ‘Ziggy Stardust’ in the car.”
My face went skeptical. “No, you weren’t.”
“At full blast, mind you. As it is the only way to listen to Bowie.”
“I have the records at my house. They sound insane on the Bose stereo system.”