Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
His expression didn’t change though. Nor did he look at me. Instead, he lowered his head and brought his mouth to one nipple, sucking lightly, knowing exactly what I needed though I had not used the words.
Oh God.
I moaned, a flush of pleasure blooming between my legs as his tongue circled my nipples slowly, erotically. I weaved my fingers through his soft, thick hair, holding his dark head to one breast and then the other as he drove me wild.
“Travis,” I gasped. My body was already primed. My mind had done that as I’d lain in bed, picturing just this.
He stood straight, removing his T-shirt and then the jeans he was wearing. My eyes drank him in. That beautifully muscled chest I’d admired over the weeks. It looked different now somehow.
Because you’re going to touch it. You’re going to feel it against your bare skin. For now, here in this room, it belongs to you.
Something I could only describe as joy radiated in my chest and I shivered with the cascade of sensation, both external and within, reaching out and circling one finger around the small masculine disc that was his nipple. It tightened beneath my touch and he took in a small, sharp breath.
He was so large and tall and solid, and I wanted to touch him everywhere. My hands moved over his shoulders and down his arms, loving the juxtaposition of his hard muscles beneath warm, velvety skin.
There were textures to discover everywhere on his body and I felt greedy to learn them all, to memorize them so they’d always be mine.
My gaze lowered, as did my hand, reaching for his erection, stiff and silken, a tiny drop of moisture leaking from the tip. I wrapped my hand around it and stroked lightly, rewarded by Travis’s ragged moan.
“God, I want you,” he said, his voice thick. “If I told you how much, you would laugh.”
A burst of warmth infused me. “I’m not laughing,” I said. “I want you too.”
He walked me backward the few steps to my bed and lowered me slowly, coming over the top of me. He leaned up, taking a rogue curl between his thumb and index finger, feeling its texture. His lips tipped. “This hair,” he muttered. “This damn hair.”
I’d always felt self-conscious about my hair. I’d always tried to control it but rarely managed the impossible task. As a little girl, I’d wished on stars to make it straight and fine, like the Barbie dolls my mom sometimes let me pick out of the toy bin at the thrift store.
But the way Travis Hale was looking at it in that moment made me whisper a prayer of deep gratitude that those stars had ignored my plea.
He leaned in and kissed me again, his long, hard body covering my own, his chest rubbing against mine, his erection probing my lower stomach. I moved my hips so that I cradled his, wrapping one leg around his thigh and moving it slowly upward in an effort to bring our cores together.
He raised himself by planting one knee on the bed, taking himself in his hand and sliding his erection up my damp slit, once and then again. Our mouths parted, his breath ragged as he touched his forehead to mine, teasing himself and me with long, slow glides that were wondrous and blissful and torturous and not nearly enough.
Pleasure took over and things turned dreamy, my brain shutting off completely. I surrendered to the sensation, feeling him everywhere, our kisses going from almost savage in their intensity to slow and deep and languorous. I writhed beneath him, wanting more, more, more, and he pulled back slightly, his breath coming harsh. He said my name as his head dipped lower, stopping at each nipple and sucking gently before moving down, his lips grazing across my ribs and over my belly. “Open for me, Haven,” he said, and I did, my legs widening as he flicked his tongue over my swollen clit. I cried out, bucking slightly and he did it again, opening my thighs wider and holding them gently to give himself more access. “God, you taste sweet.”
I said something unintelligible as he lowered his head, circling his tongue and sucking, and then doing it again and again. Oh God, it was wonderful. I whimpered, weaving my fingers through his hair once again, lifting my hips to his hot, talented mouth.
I felt the moan that vibrated in his throat and the orgasm broke over me, even more intense than the one he’d given me with his fingers, bliss crashing in waves as I bucked and gasped, his name tearing from my lips.
He picked up something from the floor. A wallet? A condom. The fog cleared, but only slightly. I thought I heard him mutter, “Thank God,” as he pulled it on, coming over my body again. He made eye contact and there was a question there, his muscles held taught, waiting.