Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
His breathing is near panting as I tell him what I see when I look at him. But I’m not done. If this is it, so be it. I’m throwing down the gauntlet, and he’ll either rise or fall to the wayside, but at least then, I’ll know where I stand.
“I’m Wren Fucking Ford, and if you can’t handle that or I’m too much for you, then maybe you’re not the man I think you are, Jesse Sullivan.”
Chapter 14
JESSE
What the fuck?
My head is screaming. She’s not ashamed of me, she’s hilariously jealous of some other woman I couldn’t give a shit about, and she thinks that I don’t want her.
How did this get so fucked up?
I have no idea, but I’m gonna unfuck it right now.
I sit upright and wrap my arms around her waist tightly, not letting her move an inch. Quietly, so it’s just the two of us, I vow, “I think I’m the only man who can handle you full throttle. And God knows, I want to. Give me your worst, and I’ll show you my best.”
She smiles, and I feel ten feet tall that I did that. That smile is mine, I fucking earned it.
She lays her arms over my shoulders, holding me just as tightly. “And what’ll you do with my best?” she challenges.
“Try my damnedest to keep up,” I answer honestly. Before she can muster up a comeback, I take her mouth desperately, stealing her breath to give myself life, because without her, I’ve been a zombie going through the motions. With just the tiniest taste, I remember how good she feels and come back to life, needing her because she’s everything.
I squeeze her hips through her shirt, wanting to make sure she’s real and not another figment of my imagination, because I’ve had this exact dream dozens of times. I nip her lip, drawing a squeak of surprise, and I sigh happily, “You’re real.”
Wren isn’t someone who lets things happen to her. She’s a full participant in every moment, and she nips me back, demanding more and more from me. Our kiss catches fire, taking us from the uncomfortableness we’ve been in for so long to a more familiar place, but this time, there’s an honesty and a vulnerability in it for us both.
I tease along the hem of her shirt, not breaking our connection until the last moment before I sweep it over her head. She shakes her head to free her hair down her back, and I twirl a lock around my finger. I pull ever so slightly, waiting for her full attention. When her eyes meet mine, I stare into hers as I release her hair to trace my fingertips along her collarbone, down her sternum, and tease over the fullness of her breast. I’ve barely touched her, but her nipples pearl up as she arches for more.
Cupping the soft, heavy weight, I brush my thumbs over her hard nubs, rubbing them in small circles that pull a groan from Wren’s throat. “More.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I duck my head as I lift her slightly so I can take her breast into my mouth. I suck gently at first, but then I feel her nails on my shoulders, and I moan at the sharp sensation. She knows what that does to me, so I answer her silent request and take a deep draw with my teeth pressed to her sensitive flesh. Wanting to worship all of her, I repeat the move to the other breast, giving them equal attention.
Slowly, I let her body lower, savoring every inch of contact as I press kisses along her breastbone, up her neck, and along her jaw. Her hips roll against my cock, which is trapped behind my zipper. Even so, I can feel the delicious heat of her core, so I push and pull her against me to hit her clit just right.
“Use me, Wren. Fucking use me,” I tell her. I purposefully say her name, the word baby all but eliminated from my vocabulary because of her feelings about it.
As she writhes on me, I watch her in all her glory—head thrown back, eyes closed, and mouth open to let little whimpers escape. She’s gorgeous, and I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet. A woman like Wren doesn’t let just anyone witness her most vulnerable moments, but she’s decided to allow me to see her this way. I don’t take that lightly. I never have, and I’ll never not be amazed by her passion.
She’s getting close, her breathing hitching every other second as she works us both, and her pleasure takes my own higher. Suddenly, her focus redirects to between us where she fumbles with the button of my jeans.
“Thought you weren’t sleeping with me,” I tease, but there’s enough hunger in my tone that it’s obvious I’m on the edge of control.