Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
And right now, she needed him.
She ripped open his shirt, careless of the buttons that went pinging across the floor. Chaos incarnate. A storm with no forecast, a fiery blaze no man would ever fully contain.
She kissed him hard, taking full possession of his mouth and holding nothing back. It was honest, raw, and unrefined. Frenzied energy that burned through him and heated his blood.
She was everything his ordered life had been engineered to keep out. But he needed her disruptive force close by.
She stroked his cock from root to tip, and his hips jerked against his own will. He gave up trying to hide this hold she had over him. It was clear who was in the power seat.
He was a goner. She owned every part of him. His body. His heart. Fuck, she could even have his soul. He was going to burst if he didn’t tell her soon.
“Joce.” Her name was a plea. “Joce, look at me.” When her eyes found his, he brushed a delicate touch over her cheek. “I—”
She covered his mouth.
It was such a strange thing to do, he laughed. Maybe she was smart to stop him. He didn’t want to ruin this moment.
She rose on her knees, sinking onto his cock in one slow, punishing glide. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy. He grabbed her hips if only to ground himself as she seated herself to the hilt.
Her lips parted as she released a broken, greedy gasp that landed somewhere in the core of his soul. She wrenched his hands away, pinning his wrists to the back of the couch as she rose, dragging her tight wet heat up his shaft only to plunge her body down again.
Christ, the way she stretched his muscles and used his body left nowhere for him to hide. The truth cracked open in his chest, threatening once more to spill out in a frenzied confession, and it took everything to swallow the words back.
The last thing he wanted to do was scare her again.
She rode him hard, losing her rhythm and feigning no patience. She stripped away all pretenses, showing him once and for all that she would never be refined or poised.
Good. He preferred her frantic and real.
Loving Jocelyn was like losing his religion. Everything he knew about himself, everything he thought he was, paled in comparison to the unfathomable need she stirred in him, the absolute certainty that he would sacrifice anything, including his deepest beliefs, just to keep her.
Let her wring the salvation out of him. He’d come for his share later.
Her body drove down on his, over and over, her slick heat gripping him so tight his vision hazed at the edges. Breath sawed out of him in ragged grunts as her nails carved crescents into his flesh. He could come right now, but he forced his release back, giving away his need to finish in favor of hers.
The couch groaned beneath them. Her shirt rucked at her waist. She was so close he wanted to get her there.
“Let me touch you,” he begged.
Her hands stiffened around his, her fingers lacing so tightly the blood cut off.
She hunted her orgasm with determined abandon, as if it would somehow affirm she hadn’t broken them. Greedy and single-minded, her jaw clenched, and she rode him faster.
Her eyes refused to meet his, and he wondered what she was afraid to see.
She laid him bare. A vessel for whatever she needed him to be.
His gaze once again sought hers, but she evaded him.
Her hair formed a wild halo around her flushed face, no makeup, no hiding. Her salt-streaked cheeks proved this was long past casual.
He fucking loved her. The ache had been clawing at his ribs for weeks. He was done denying it. Done minimizing the things she made him feel. Never before had he felt so intensely for another person, so certain that he’d destroy anyone or anything that tried to keep them apart.
He loved her. He loved the infuriating way she broke his balls, the unpredictable way she went about conducting her life, the glorious, unmanageable way she failed to tame all that hair. He even loved the way she so thoroughly disrupted a room.
She could torch his plans with a glance, quicken his blood with a single flick of those enchanting eyes. He loved her, and he was done fighting it.
He didn’t want to change her or contain her. He only wanted to be near her. To have the right to touch her, hold her, and take care of her, which was a big ask of a woman who prided herself on being as low-maintenance and independent as possible.
The truth settled into him like a weight he’d always carried. The familiarity of its presence confirmed his love had lived there, inside of him, even when she used to torment the hell out of him and drive him insane.