Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
His words have me wanting him back inside me, but I know he needs time to recuperate. “C’mon, dirty boy, I want to soap you up.” I jump down and kick my heels off. The water is still on and the bathroom is now all fogged up. I step into the hot water and moan as it rains down on my body. Killian joins me, pulling my body against his and laying a hard kiss to my lips.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. When I give him a puzzled look, he elaborates. “For quitting your job. For taking a chance on us. For opening your heart and letting me in. I will do everything in my power to make sure you never regret it.”
A lump forms in my throat and my eyes become blurry through my tears. I’m thankful we’re in the shower so he can’t tell I’m crying again. This man. He’s quickly come to mean so damn much to me.
Pulling his head down, I kiss him softly. “You don’t have to thank me, Kill,” I whisper against his lips. “You loving me, broken and all, is everything.”
* * *
My eyes flutter open. The room is dark. It must still be nighttime. Why am I awake? Then I feel it…Killian’s strong yet firm lips on my flesh.
Kiss behind my ear.
The front of his body is pressed against my back. We fell asleep naked with his dick nestled between my ass cheeks.
Kiss to my neck.
His rough hand makes its way down my arm and over my bare hip. I wiggle my ass to tease him and his cock twitches slightly.
Kiss on my shoulder.
He rolls me onto my back. Spreading my legs, he situates himself between my thighs. His fingers thread with mine, our hands landing on the pillow over my head. Then, he pushes ever so slowly into me. His wide girth stretching me oh so deliciously.
He doesn’t thrust.
No.
He glides.
In and out of me.
Like my body was made for him.
His lips meet mine and he kisses me softly.
And for the first time, I know what it feels like for a man to make love to me.
Twenty-Two
Giselle
“Wow! This dress is exquisite! You’re going to be the most beautiful bride,” Corrine, Olivia’s stepmom, gushes as Olivia turns in a full circle.
“It’s perfect,” Olivia agrees. “I’m just glad there’s room for growth and we’re getting married soon, or I would have to buy a different dress.”
“It would be worth it,” Corrine says. “You’re bringing another little miracle into this world.”
“I know. I just can’t wait to finally marry Nick and move into our new home.” She smiles into the mirror and our eyes lock. Her lips turn down, and I hate that she’s putting her future off because of me.
“You could move into the house now,” I suggest. “It’s practically move-in ready. You don’t have to wait until your married.” When she looks like she’s going to argue, I add, “I could keep an eye on our place until it sells.”
“I haven’t put it up for sale.” She frowns.
“Not yet, but you are, right?”
“Well…”
“Olivia, we’ve gone over this.” I stand and turn her around so we’re facing each other. “I love you. You’re the best friend a woman could ever have. But it’s time to put yourself first. It’s only a matter of time until my mom’s house sells. Move in with your fiancé and put your place up for sale.”
“Okay.” She nods but still looks unsure.
“It’s not a request. I’m demanding you, as your best friend, to move in with Nick now.”
“Okay.” She smiles softly. And then her eyes glance down and spot my necklace. “This is beautiful. Who gave this to you?” She fingers the heart and flips it over to read the inscription. “Oh, Giselle.”
“Killian gave it to me for Valentine’s Day,” I admit.
“You two are…”
“We are.” I can’t help the grin that lights up my face, and Olivia’s smile widens as well.
“Oh my god! I’m going to need all the details.”
I laugh. “Okay, but first, let’s finish our fitting.”
“Fine!” Olivia pouts playfully.
“I’m very happy for you, Giselle,” Corrine says, pulling both of us into a hug. “I’m so glad you two have found love.”
“Thank you.”
After we finish at the bridal boutique, we head out to brunch. While we’re there, my friend Tabitha texts me with some info I was waiting on. I excuse myself for a moment and make the call.
“Good afternoon, may I please speak to Benjamin Fields? My name is Giselle.”
I’m put on a brief hold, and then a baritone voice appears over the line. “This is Benjamin Fields. How can I help you?”
I explain to him that Tabitha gave me his info and I’m looking for an evening job—one where I don’t sell my body—or soul—for money. Because I hold several of the qualifications he’s looking for, he agrees to meet with me tomorrow night.