Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Her gaze bounces between my eyes and mouth, and my body feels like it's hers to control.
My pulse pounds, the rhythm in my ears so fast, I have to wonder if it should be medically alarming.
My breathing is uneven, and a sheen of sweat begins at the nape of my neck with the way she sends my body into overdrive.
My cock thickens in my jeans, but it's just one more thing I don't seem to have control over in this moment.
"This is a bad idea," she whispers.
"It is," I agree, without making a move to step back.
"I want to do it anyway," she whispers, making it sound like a confession for just the two of us.
"There's no pressure," I assure her. "No expectations."
"What if I kissed you right now?"
I swallow, every muscle in my body aching for exactly what she might be offering.
"I'd kiss you back," I tell her honestly.
"But then you'll stop as you did before?"
I swallow again. "If you want me to."
She shakes her head. "I wouldn't want you to stop."
Her eyes drift right back down to my lips, and they part as if she's controlling me rather than having the ability to control myself.
"You might," I argue, finding some part of my brain that's still capable of reasoning.
"Could I?"
"Could you stop?"
She dips her head.
"Of course."
"When?"
"Whenever you want to," I assure her, feeling a little insane for even having this conversation since I know I should have my foot on the brake, with it pressed as hard as it can go.
"No cut-off point?"
I shake my head. "Never."
She licks her lips, drawing my eyes there.
"Even if you're already inside me?"
"Even then," I promise, my body aching with a need so strong I know for a fact I've never felt it before.
"That is a lot of control," she whispers.
"It's not about control. If you want to stop, we stop."
"You wouldn't be angry?"
I shake my head.
"Not even a little?"
I shake my head again.
"I don't know what to do with that information."
"It's respect, and you deserve nothing less."
She blinks as if she never considered the idea that she was in control of what happened to her body during intimate moments, and I file that away on my growing list of reasons why Whitmore has to die.
"I want to kiss you so badly," she whispers.
"I want that, too," I confess, feeling weak and more than a little out of control with desperation, but also knowing I'd never violate her in any way or try to coerce her into doing something she didn't want to do.
The fingers on my shirt curl, gripping the fabric slightly, and all it takes is one gentle tug to move me toward her.
Our breaths mingle, our lips an inch away from touching, but her eyes are locked on mine as if she's trying to tell if I'm telling her the truth or not. She's been lied to too many times to just take words at face value, but I don't feel uneasy with her scrutiny. She's safe with me.
"I'm nervous," she says.
"We can stop."
"I don't want to stop. I haven't... Since Graham. I mean... It's been a really long time."
"We can wait," I tell her as if this is something she'll want again at a later time when she has already confessed that it's a bad idea.
"Do we have to?"
I shake my head.
"Is it something you want also, or are you just going along to make me happy?"
"Can I show you something?" I ask. "Something intimate?"
She nods.
"Touch me," I tell her. "Run your hand down the front of me."
She looks down after backing away an inch or so.
"Touch me, and you can tell how much I want this."
She shakes her head.
"I don't have to touch you to see that," she says, her throat working on yet another swallow as she looks up into my eyes.
"I want this with you, too," I assure her. "But only if it's something you want."
"I don't know how I'll feel about it in the morning," she whispers.
"If you haven't been intimate with anyone in twelve years, I'd say a little sore," I say with a small grin, trying to lighten the mood.
Her eyes drop back to below my belt. "More than a little from the looks of it."
"We don't have to have sex, Juliet."
"I want to," she says quickly. "So badly. I want it more than I've ever wanted anything else in my life."
My cock kicks in my jeans, urging me to take the next step, to make the next move so we can get this show on the road, but thankfully, that part of me has never controlled my actions.
I remain silent, waiting for her next move, because I was serious when I told her there would be no pressure from my side.
"Can I have it?"
I resist the urge to moan.
"It's yours," I say, knowing deep down that I mean it more than just in this moment.