Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
“And if he does,” he says, panting too, his mouth wet, his eyes glazed over. “I hope he gives me what I deserve.”
“What —”
This time when he comes for me, I somehow know that he won’t stop.
No matter what I do.
Or what I saw.
Or what the danger is.
He’s not going to stop because he doesn’t care about coming out of this alive. He doesn’t care about himself.
He doesn’t care.
I don’t know why I find it both scary and exciting in equal measure. So much so that my lips melt under the heat of his and I can’t help but kiss him back. I can’t help but let my tongue go exploring when his mouth opens up. As soon as my tongue touches his, I moan and his fingers around my throat go tighter.
As if he’s not only trying to capture the pulse of my body but also this keening sound that came straight from my belly.
And why wouldn’t he?
I know he likes that sound. I know he likes it when I make noises and moan and whimper.
So I do it again.
Not that it’s hard. I guess I’m a moaner — something I hadn’t known until that night in my dorm room — which is a good thing because he likes to make me moan.
So every time his tongue swipes against mine, I moan. Every time he sucks on my mouth, I whimper. And when he bites me, my lip, I jerk against him and whine. Which makes him not only groan but also tighten his grip around my throat. And I think it’s easy to interpret that as domination.
And it is, of course.
But I also think that it’s needy.
His grip on my neck.
It’s his attempt to feel me.
To feel what he does to me, how he affects me. As if my reactions are an aphrodisiac to him. As if my reactions are what keeps him alive. Like he really is a devil like I called him and he feeds on my lust. Or a lion who feeds on my pulse and blood and how it all roars for him.
So I give him everything.
It doesn’t even occur to me to hold back, or maybe it does but like him, I don’t care.
I tug on his crazy hair — that, Jesus Christ, is still as soft and thick as it was thirteen months ago, quite possibly softer and thicker — and he pulls at mine. I bury my fingers in his stubble and he pushes his body against mine.
And yes, it’s beautiful.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt.
Just as I think that, I hear a car door slamming outside.
Footsteps climbing the stairs, walking across the porch. The front door opening.
Oh fuck.
Shit. Fuck. Fuck.
He’s here.
My brother is fucking here. With his sister.
And maybe it’s the rush of adrenaline or my extremely strong will to protect him — even after everything — or something else that I can’t quite figure out in the moment, but I give him such a hard push that he’s powerless against it.
He’s powerless against me and my attempt to break the kiss.
He stares down at me like he doesn’t know where he is and the only thing that was keeping him grounded was my mouth under his. But then I see the comprehension dawning on his face and I know he can hear the approaching footsteps as well.
While his mouth — wet and pink and swollen — stretches up in a satisfied lopsided smile, my own falls open.
While he lets go of my hair and my neck only to bring his hand up to my face to cradle my cheek like he thinks I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen — more beautiful than the kiss he just gave me — my own hands snap away from his body and curl into fists at my sides.
And while he’s rubbing his thumbs over my skin so tenderly, so softly that I want to weep, I whisper, “Please.”
Which is what makes him move back.
Just in the nick of time because as soon as he does, I hear a thundering voice. “What the fuck?”
My eyes are wide as I stare up at Ledger and he throws me a smile that I can only call satisfied and reassuring. Like this is exactly what he wanted and now that he’s got it, he’s going to take care of it.
Before I can react to that, my brother demands, his voice even more booming than before, “What the fuck are you doing?”
With a last look at me, Ledger turns and oh my God, I can see that he wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand — or at least I can surmise from his gestures since his back is facing me now — before he drawls, “Hello to you too.”
“Answer the fucking question, dipshit,” my brother growls, “what the fuck are you doing with my sister?”