Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I turned with my plate and came face to face with Hale.
“There you are.”
I pursed my lips wondering how much he heard. “Hey.”
“How’s your morning going?”
“Fine.” His easy expression turned unsure. Hale hated when I said I was fine. “Did you kill a bird?”
He chuckled. “No.”
My eyes narrowed. “Why did you invite that guy here after I told you how uncomfortable he made me last night?”
“He apologized for anything offensive he might have said and asked for a chance to make it up to you.”
“And you’re letting him?” Who was this guy and what did he do with my husband? “A little heads up would’ve been nice.”
“I would have told you, but this is the first we’re speaking since last night. You left me there, Rayne.”
“You left me on a dance floor, Hale. And no one was dancing.”
“I came right back, but you were gone.”
I wasn’t going to argue semantics. “I don’t like him.”
“Baby, he’s all talk. I made it clear who you belong to.”
I scoffed and touched my neck. “That reminds me, where did you put my leash?”
“You know what I mean.”
Xander’s words came back to me. “Oh my God, he was right. You brought him here to show off.”
He stepped closer and lowered his voice, the silver of his eyes darkening to a stormy grey. “Maybe I did. Should we give him a show?”
This was one of those keep your friends close and your enemies closer things. I poked my finger in his chest before he could step any closer. “I don’t like playing games like this, Hale.”
“Some games are fun, Rayne.” He pressed the front of his body to mine.
“Right now, my sandwich looks fun.”
“Come on, baby. Don’t be mad at me.” He knew exactly how to push my buttons. One swipe of his fingers along my neck and I was a puddle of goo for him.
“You’re such a punk.”
He chuckled and set my plate aside, backing me into the wall. When he kissed me, his hands went right into my hair. “Deny it all you want, baby, but you like when I get possessive and stake my claim.”
My breath quickened as he pinched my nipple through my shirt. My body's switchboard was a hot mess these days, and I felt too many things at once. Excitement. Fear. Arousal. Longing for my sandwich. “I like it in private.”
He dragged his nose along my cheek as if breathing me in, quietly whispering, “I don’t want to be private today, Rayne. I want him to see the way you look at me, the way I touch you, the way you make me happier than any man alive. I want him to imagine how hot you are when I’m fucking you, my wife. Then I’ll make it unmistakably clear that he, or any other man for that matter, will never know you as intimately as I do.”
My back bone melted into a puddle in my panties. “Hale…” I whined, completely turned on.
“Rayne,” he answered, knowing by the sound of my voice that he was going to get his way—the cocky bastard.
How could I deny him anything when he went all growly-alpha and told me I was pretty? My foremothers would be so disappointed, but my inner slut was reveling in his high-handed dominance.
“I’m not happy about this.”
His hand closed around my ass as he loosened the button of his pants. “Are you sure?”
Shutting my eyes, I dragged my knuckles over his swollen length.
“There’s my good girl.” He kissed my throat and my knees softened. “You spoil me.”
Reaching into his clothes, I gripped his length. He groaned when I stroked him.
“Yes.” He pushed his hips forward. “Your touch feels incredible.”
He knew I couldn’t resist him, and he used his potent sexual magnetism to his full advantage. So, I had to deliver at least one dig in defense of feminism. “We better hurry, Hale. I heard the dick-measuring contest starts in ten minutes.”
He didn’t even flinch. “I’ve got that one in the bag.”
We Like Things Chipper
“Snoopy!” I cheered as the giant parade float filled the television screen.
Elara’s grin widened as she stared at the procession, mesmerized by the production. “’Noopy?”
“Right there?” I pointed to the float when the camera panned out again.
We had been hiding in the den for some time, and the Macy’s parade was almost over. Pretty soon, we would have to be with the people again. Back in Oregon, we would be peeling potatoes and snapping green beans right about now.
“Oh, look, Elara!” my mother cheered. “It’s Santa!”
Elara was still figuring out the whole Santa Claus thing. We made every mention exciting enough that she understood the dude in the red suit was a big deal, but for a child who basically had every toy she could want, the Clauses paled in comparison to the powerful Davenport men.
“I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas again,” my mom said. This was her time’s flying speech earmarked for fall. She also had a summer speech and one for when the leaves started to turn in October.