Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“But beautiful, though,” Micah adds.
“Really beautiful,” I agree. “I just...I’m at a loss,” I admit.
“Because Ellie’s the mom?”
“Because Ellie’s my mystery woman.”
“Who’s off-limits,” he says, his tone brokering no room for argument.
This is where I’m supposed to agree, the way I did last time, but after spending the morning with Ellie—the woman who rocked my world on Valentine’s Day and is now swollen with my child—it’s hard to see her as the same person Micah sees as taboo. At twenty-two years old, she’s all grown up and well over the legal age. Not to mention, wise beyond her years. The woman has been through more shit than most people her age. Truthfully, there’s no reason why she and I can’t be together if that’s what both of us really wanted.
When I don’t say anything, Micah says my name to get my attention. “She’s off-limits, right?”
And because the last thing I want to do is to start issues within our family, I reluctantly agree. “Yeah, of course she is.”
But when I stroll into the penthouse with Mexican food—one of Ellie’s favorites—and find her lying on the lounger, in a tiny as hell bikini, her eyes closed and her belly sporting the sexiest bump, I know it’s going to be easier said than done. Because as I stare at this all-too-grown-up version of Ellie, my head, heart, and cock have all ganged up on me and are demanding I make her mine in every damn way.
“Hey,” Ellie says, scrubbing her eyes and sitting up. “I must’ve fallen asleep. What time is it?”
“Almost five. I left work early and picked up Mexican for dinner. It’s in the kitchen.”
She stretches her arms above her head, and her breasts, which are damn near spilling out of the small triangles, thrust outward. I try to avert my gaze, but it only fucks me harder when my eyes land on the equally small triangle that’s being held together by two strings and barely covering her cunt. That same cunt I spent hours feasting on, tasting, licking, sucking, devouring.
Fuck! What the hell was I thinking suggesting she stay here? And I’m supposed to be working at home for the next several weeks? I should’ve gotten her a hotel room and paid someone to take care of her.
“Hey, are you okay?” Ellie asks, her brows furrowing in concern.
“Yeah,” I choke out, grabbing the towel and tossing it to her. “Maybe, uh, you should check out maternity suits if you’re going to be spending time by the pool.”
She quirks her head to the side. “Yeah, probably. But this one still fits, and nobody’s here but us.” She wraps the towel around herself, covering her body, and I’m finally able to release a harsh breath.
As she saunters inside, completely unaware of the effect she has on me, I follow behind, wondering how the hell I’m going to get through the next several weeks. And then it hits me. It’s not just a few weeks I have to get through. It’s months, no, scratch that, years. Ellie being pregnant means we’ll be connected through this baby in some shape or form for the rest of our lives. I’ll have to see her every day, knowing I can never have her again.
“This smells delicious,” she says, as she pries open the bag and dramatically inhales the scent of the food. When she reaches in and grabs the top container, she pulls the lid off and dips a finger into the queso and then pops that finger into her mouth. As she sucks the liquid cheese off her digit, her eyes roll backward, and the most erotic moan escapes her, reminding me of the sounds she uttered as I made her come over and over again.
Fuck, I can’t do this. This is goddamned torture. “I need to shower,” I choke out as I stalk out of the room to my en suite bathroom, where I proceed to rub one out.
Only when I fist my cock, images of Ellie come to mind—writhing underneath me, begging me for more. It doesn’t matter that I couldn’t see her...I could feel her, taste her, smell her...
Refusing to get off to the image of her while I’m in the shower, I let go of my shaft and press my head against the cool wall, wondering not for the first time what the fuck I’m doing.
When I walk back out to the kitchen—my body tense due to the lack of release—Ellie’s sitting at the island bar, eating her food. She looks up, her green eyes locking with mine, and a small, unsure smile quirks at the corner of her lips. “I made you a plate.”
“Thanks.” I sit next to her and notice she’s reading on her phone. When she was younger, she always had a book in her hand. Her sister is the same way.