Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
With one hand clutching her thigh and the other steadying us against the pantry door, I ravish her with powerful thrusts. The reminder of who she truly belongs to only intensifies our pleasure.
Her fingers tangle in my hair as she holds me close, relishing every moment of ecstasy we share together. And when she finally comes undone around me, it's like an explosion that sends waves of pleasure coursing through both of us. I take in the intoxicating scent of our passion mingled together on her skin and it only spurs me on to reach my own climax.
My heart races in my chest as we ride out our orgasms together, our bodies entwined and our connection unbreakable. In this moment, there is no one else in the world but us.
“Fuck, babe,” I whisper before pulling out of her slowly. I rest my forehead against hers and we pant heavily, sharing the same air. The scent of our lovemaking fills the small kitchen, our skin damp and pressed together.
“Yeah,” she moans and her fingers tangle in my hair. She did this the last time we made love, and I find it so comforting. Her touch has become addictive, especially after I release inside of her.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I slowly withdraw from her. She whimpers softly, not wanting me to leave. I don't know what to say, so I remain silent as I pull up my pants and zip them. Running a hand through my hair, I watch as she fixes her skirt and smooths out her soft waves.
"You look freshly fucked and absolutely adorable, Bella.” I smirk, wanting everyone within a five-block radius to know that I've just made passionate love to her at every angle in every position and I plan on doing it every day for the rest of our lives.
Chapter Nine
Bella
The second I see the delivery truck pull up outside, my stomach knots. Again. The third time this week. The same sleek black van, the same driver with an unreadable expression as he hauls out another extravagant arrangement of flowers, another designer bag. It’s all starting to feel like a bad dream.
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, glaring at the bouquet of roses so massive it looks like it belongs at a wedding. The driver offers me a stiff smile as he walks up the steps.
“Bella Fremont?”
I grit my teeth, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He hands over the flowers, and I almost want to shove them back at him. But it’s not his fault. It’s David’s.
The note is tucked neatly between the roses, that familiar elegant handwriting glaring up at me. I don’t even bother reading it this time. The message is probably the same as the last two: I know what you need. Come home.
I toss the note into the trash, but the flowers sit on the table, taunting me, a reminder that I can’t escape the pull of my old life that easily. Not with David, and now not with my family constantly blowing up my phone.
The door creaks behind me, and I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Archer. The weight of his gaze is already pressing against my back. He’s silent for a moment, but I can feel the tension creeping in, thickening the air between us.
“Another one?” His voice is low, steady, but there’s an edge there. One that cuts right through me.
I nod, keeping my back to him as I stare at the ridiculous display of roses. “Yeah. Another one.”
There’s a long pause, and when he finally speaks, his words come out slow, measured. “You gonna keep letting him send this shit, or are you gonna tell him to stop?”
I whirl around, my arms dropping to my sides. “You think I haven’t tried? I blocked him. He’s going through my family now. And apparently, they’re all too happy to help. I shouldn’t have told them where I am.”
Archer’s jaw tightens, and he takes a step forward, his eyes flicking to the flowers before locking on mine. “So, what? You’re just gonna let him keep doing this? Let him get into your head like this?”
I feel the frustration bubble up, hot and sharp. “What do you want me to do, Archer? I can’t control what he does. I blocked him, I told him I’m done working for him. He’s the one who won’t take no for an answer.”
He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about the flowers, Bella. It’s about whether or not you’re actually tempted to go back to him. To that life.”
His words hit like a punch, and for a second, I’m speechless. “You think I want to go back to the city?”
“I don’t know,” he says, his voice low but firm. “But you’re not exactly shutting this down, either.”