Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 85443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
He shocked me when he reached down, snagged the sheets I was holding to my chest, and yanked them violently down, exposing me completely. The reason I was holding up the sheet? Yeah, because I went to bed fully dressed and I knew I was a wreck from sleep. Meaning my boobs were half out of their bra and spilling slightly over the top of the bodice and my skirt had hiked almost completely upward, exposing not only my thigh-highs and garters, but the lower portion of my panties as well. His eyes left my face, doing a slow enough inspection that every inch of me that he lingered on warmed at the heat in his gaze.
Then, without giving any sign of his intention, he was on the bed, his fists planted on either side of my hips, his body pressing between my legs, but holding his weight up off me. His eyes found mine, pinning them into place as he sat back on his heels, his hands grabbing my hips and yanking my body down so I was lying flat again. And, well, he wasn't just naked anymore. He was naked and hard. Then, suddenly, he was over me, his chest pressed to mine, his hips pinning me. And his cock slid to rest against the heat of me, making me buck up into him on a loud gasp at the unexpected contact. His eyes stayed focused on mine, watching every nuance for a long moment before rocking himself against me, the head of his cock hitting my clit with delicious precision, making my arms fly up and dig into his shoulders as I moaned.
"Yeah, I'm pretty fucking sure of myself, Prue," he said, knifing up off me and moving to stand beside the bed, his cock hard and straining upward, a bead of pre-cum at the tip and I actually felt an irrational, ridiculous, filthy urge to sit up off the side of the bed and lick it off. But before I could make a complete slutty idiot of myself, he moved away, giving me a view of his muscled ass as he walked back toward his closet, grabbed his suit for the day, and disappeared inside the bathroom.
Alone, I frantically shoved my boobs back into my bra and yanked my skirt down, doing my best to ignore the frantic throbbing between my legs. By the time all was set to rights, the door to the bathroom flew open again to reveal a fully dressed Byron who was just as attractive completely covered as he was fully naked. And, well, that was just unfair.
"Sheets, Miss. Marlow," he commanded, tucking in his cufflinks as he walked to the door.
With that, I was left alone in his room, in his bed, both turned on and confused. And maybe the tiniest bit offended. I mean... what the hell was that?
Honestly, I had just been teasing him.
If there was one thing I had realized over the events of the night before, it was that whatever was between me and Byron was inevitable. It was like an ocean. You could move away from the water and pretend it didn't exist. But that didn't stop the tide from crashing the shores every night. It was useless to deny or fight it. My body wanted him in a way I had never wanted a man before. More than that, there was a part of me, albeit a very stupid, very masochistic part of me, that knew it was starting to be more than that.
Maybe it was the way he saw through me when I would swear even if my exes came equipped with x-ray vision, they could never have seen beneath my shields. He called bullshit on things that I didn't even realize were bullshit until he brought it up. He showed me sides of myself I hadn't been aware of possessing.
All that and I barely knew him.
We didn't sit at night and bare our souls over cups of coffee.
We didn't have histories like old friends.
He could just look at me, just listen to a few words I said, and he got me better than anyone else I had ever known.
I thought my father was the best listener I had ever come across, but I was starting to see that I was wrong. Byron St. James was the best listener. Not necessarily because he listened to everything I said. Hell, half the time he cut me off. But because he heard.
So... yeah.
That was where my head was as I stripped his bed then walked to my room to shower and change. The fact that I took an extra long time to make sure everything was perfectly shaved, well, yeah, that was my inner slut preparing for the inevitable.
I threw the laundry in and grabbed his coffee, going into the room with maybe a little bit more swing in my step than I usually had, prepared for his eyes to find me, to rake over me like they often did. But when I walked in, I found him on the phone, completely avoiding looking at me. With a shrug and only a small knock to my self-esteem, I dropped off his coffee and moved to take up my guard outside his door.