Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
He bends forward, his lips brushing my earlobe as he speaks. “I can practically hear you thinking, Tor.” Brushing his index finger across my forehead, he smooths out the frown lines. His breath blows across my face. The scent of tequila and tobacco invade my senses, causing my head to spin. I cling to him, not because I’m drunk, but because I want to, and that right there scares the shit out of me.
He pulls back and his eyes flick down to my mouth. He closes his eyes on a groan as though he’s struggling with something.
“What am I thinking?” I blurt, my voice husky, like some kind of bloody sex phone hooker.
His lips pull up in a wicked smile. My breath hitches in my lungs. Oh, God, that smile makes my heart stutter and then break into a sprint.
His hand moves to the nape of my neck, grabbing a fistful of my hair. “I’ll tell you what I’m thinking.” He slams me against the trunk, the rough bark scraping against my skin. His breath touches my neck and I shiver violently. His teeth skim over my pulse before he bites down.
I groan, and my back bows away from the tree, scrambling to get closer, demanding more.
I can’t control myself. I just want him, and I don’t care about the complications or the consequences. I gasp as his body presses against mine. He releases my hair and his fingers skim down my neck, gripping it lightly, dominating me with every breath. My pulse skyrockets as my body basks in his dominance. I can feel every hard inch of him, the heat of his body through his shirt, his warm breath touching my lips, his fingers digging into the skin of my throat. He’s everywhere. I can’t escape him. I should be scared of him, but I’m not. I could blame the tequila, but can’t deny that he affects me.
His hand creeps down my chest, skimming over my breasts, gliding down my stomach. He grips between my legs, squeezing through my jeans. I roll my hips into him, desperate for some pressure. Something! His breath caresses my neck as he kisses over the place he just nipped. My nails dig into his skin, raking over the back of his neck as my skin breaks out in goose bumps.
With a growl, he grabs a handful of my hair, wrenching my head back. He tightens his arm around my waist and pulls me up on my tiptoes, crushing his lips to mine. My fingers tug at his shirt, in a desperate bid to get closer to him. I want more. I need more. My body feels like it’s on fire. I can’t breathe properly. His tongue teases my lips, and my lips part.
“Fuck,” he growls against my mouth before I feel his teeth bite my bottom lip. He tugs at it gently and pushes his body harder, if that’s even possible, against mine.
I moan and claw at him like a bitch in heat. Fuck me. I have no shame right now, and I can’t even be embarrassed about that.
He rolls his hips against me, grinding his erection against my stomach. “Damn it,” he hisses over my lips. He grips my waist, lifting me and pinning me to the tree with his hips.
My legs clamp around his waist and his fingers grip my thighs, digging into my skin. He buries his face in my neck, his lips working down my throat, kissing, nipping, and licking as they go. My head falls back as my hands seem to find their way into his hair, pulling him in, wanting more. I can’t seem to get close enough to him. His lips continue their journey until he’s biting the tops of my breasts.
“Jude, where the hell are you?” I hear a deep male voice shouting. “Jude?”
Raising his head from my chest, he glares at me. “I’m not done with you. Do you hear me?” he whispers, slamming his lips to mine one last time before slowly releasing me.
I don’t answer him. I can’t answer him. Shit, I can barely breathe. My heart feels like it’s trying to escape from my rib cage, and my knickers are in dire need of replacement.
He takes my hand and pulls me toward the parking lot. I stagger after him on shaky legs. The combination of tequila and Jude’s lips have really done a number on my equilibrium. I can see a figure approaching us in the dark, and I instinctively cling to Jude.
“What the hell were you doing?” It’s Rich.
“None of your fucking business,” Jude says, still pulling me behind him.
I follow him to a truck and he opens the door.
Rich glances at me. “She better not puke in my truck,” he groans.
He can go suck a big one. I flick him the bird, feeling very brave with Jude half-sheltering me from his view. I cling to his arm, trying not to sway like the intoxicated mess that I am.