Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Can we go to my room?” I ask. She lifts her head, and her blue eyes are so dark they’re almost black, and the desire I see there almost brings me to my knees. “I want to lay you out on my bed and explore you. Please?” I add, because I’m a desperate man where she’s concerned.
“Yes.”
“Hold on.” She wraps her arms around my neck, and we’re moving. I don’t bother with the lights or our clothes that are scattered haphazardly around my kitchen. Instead, I take the stairs two at a time. Her face is buried in my neck, and the way she clings to me has something tripping over in my chest. It’s not the first time that feeling has happened when I’m with her, but this time it feels different. Maybe it’s because her body is wrapped around mine, and her bare tits are pressed against my chest.
Maybe it’s just Ramsey.
We reach my room, and I make my way to the bed in the darkness. I don’t set her down. Instead, I grip her tightly with one arm while I find the switch to the lamp and turn it on, bathing the room in a soft glow.
I sit on the bed with her still wrapped around me, and she’s now straddling me. “Ramsey.” My voice is gravelly. “Look at me, baby.” She lifts her head and gives me a shy smile. “Tell me where you want this to go? There is no wrong answer here. I’ll give you whatever you want. I just need your words.”
“Make this ache go away.”
“Here?” I place my hand over her chest, over her heart.
“No. You already fixed that ache,” she whispers.
It’s a good fucking thing I’m sitting down. Her confession would have knocked me on my ass. As it is, I’m stunned speechless. I wrap my arms around her back and hug her tightly. So tight I’m probably crushing her, but fuck, she takes my breath away.
“Deacon?”
“Yeah?” I answer gruffly.
“This ache,” she says, rocking her hips against mine.
A few things happen at once. My cock pulses painfully against my zipper. My shy girl finds her voice and tells me exactly what she wants. And lastly, and probably the biggest, is that something happens inside me. Something shifts. It’s a feeling not only in my chest but in my gut. It tells me that she’s different, something I’ve known all along, but it’s more than that. I care about her. I crave her and this new sensation. It’s soul-capturing and all-consuming. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
It feels a lot like… love.
I’ve never been in love. Sure, I had relationships in the past. There was a woman in college who I thought was going to be the one, but it didn’t work out. We wanted different things. I was torn up for a couple of weeks when we broke things off, but I got over the pain and her with ease. I know with absolute certainty I would not get over losing Ramsey.
Never.
I also know that what I felt for my college girlfriend is nothing compared to the woman in my arms.
As badly as I want to strip her down and fuck her, this feeling, this realization, changes things. I don’t want our first time to be after she’s been on her feet all night and exhausted. I want it to be… more. I don’t know what more is or how I make it that way, but I’ll find a way. Right now, my girl has an ache that I need to take care of.
Standing, I kiss her softly before resting my forehead against hers. “I need you out of these jeans,” I tell her.
“Capris,” she corrects me.
“They’re denim, and they’re in my way,” I counter. She giggles, and the sound wraps itself around my heart. Slowly, I let her body slide down mine. When her feet touch the floor, she steps back. She maintains eye contact as she reaches for the button of her capris and pops it open before lowering the zipper—the sound echoing through the room.
“Why am I the only one getting naked?” she asks.
“Because I can’t trust myself not to fuck you into next week.”
“What if I want you to?”
“Is that what you want? A hard fuck?” To prove my point, I lower my zipper and shuffle out of my jeans, kicking them to the side. My cock is peeking out above my boxers, and I squeeze it tightly to ward off my ache.
“I want to make you happy.”
I’m glad she’s found her voice, and she’s telling me what she wants, but those six words confirm that my cock will not be going anywhere near her pussy. Not tonight. I don’t want her to want me inside her to make me happy. I want her to want it because it will make her happy. Call me a pussy, or take my man card or whatever, but she’s lived her life for everyone else. I won’t let her make decisions like this because she thinks that’s what she needs to do to make me happy.