Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 40969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
So, I wait, and I watch, grabbing the glass of lemonade I made before coming out here, sitting next to Wylde’s bourbon he poured himself after dinner, a round glass with ice sitting inside it. He’s not touching it, though, not needing something to do with his hands beside holding me in place. Meanwhile, I’m taking my time with my drink, not knowing what else to do after that tangent I just laid on him.
“If you think for one second I’d go after you while Vanessa was in the picture still, you’re dead wrong. We’ve had this discussion with the Journey situation. Vanessa and I have always been friends and will remain that way. There isn’t anything between us except being platonic.”
“I know that. I’m not saying you are. I’m simply stating what others are circulating, and now you basically want to stamp my forehead with your name right out of the gates,” I interrupt. That’s not a subject I want him thinking I’d ever believe.
“Maybe not your forehead, but your ass with my handprint? Fuck, yeah.” His eyes go hazy with lust. My core clenches. How we’ll ever finish a conversation, I have no idea. “I’m calling Monica first thing in the morning. That handbook is being ripped up, and I’m taking down my social media. I’ll either steal Pierre as my assistant or hire another one. Your place is beside me, sweetheart. A lot of changes are coming, and in a good way.”
“I don’t know, Wylde. It seems like it’ll all backfire. You’ll be fine; it’ll be me who feels their wrath.” He takes the glass out of my hand, sets it down on the table next to his with a loud clunk, and then I’m in his lap, my inner thighs plastered to his outer, hands sliding from my hips, circling around to my lower back, gliding under my tank top until he finds skin.
“Anyone gives you any shit, I’ll take care of it. I don’t care if I have to send out a company-wide memo. This right here, it’s you and me. I want to be able to stop by the spa when you’re in between clients and for you to feel comfortable coming to my office. I’m not going to hang you out to dry. You’re mine, Celeste, meaning I’ll be the one protecting you.” His mouth meets mine, not leaving me any way to respond, but that’s okay because the way things are going, I know the truth: I might be Wylder Hayes’, but he’s also mine.
TWENTY-THREE
Wylde
Celeste finally fucking gets it. My teeth tug at her bottom lip. A moan leaves her mouth when my tongue snakes inside, tasting the lemonade she just sipped on, another flavor that’s all Celeste Reyes—spicy, sweet, and so intoxicating there’s no way I’ll ever get tired of kissing her. She molds closer to my body, fingers pressing deeper, massaging the hardness in my pecs. One of my hands is tangled in her loose hair, keeping her where she can’t back away, the other pressed to her lower back, pulling her in until she’s practically on my cock.
“Off. I want our clothes off.” She pulls away, breathless, panting, chest heaving. The shirt she’s wearing has been a tease all fucking day. Not wearing a bra, meaning I saw her berry-colored tips peeking through the white fabric. It’s been hard to keep my hands off her, not that that was what she wanted, but I saw the wince when she sat down earlier this morning. My male pride had me wanting to beat my chest, knowing that she is my match in all things, is business oriented, loves her friends and family relentlessly, the conversations are endless, and the sex, fuck, she’s up for anything, doesn’t shy away at all.
“Fuck,” I groan as her hands leave my body, pulling at her tank top. My tongue slides around one pert nipple, teasing until I feel her hands press my head deeper, pulling me in, and that’s when I suck the tip deep into my mouth. I’m not sure who’s the greedy one, her or me.
“Wylde, please, I need to feel you.” I move from one nipple to the other, giving it the same attention. My other hand slides around to her stomach, pulling at the button on her shorts, going for the zipper. I move away, standing up with Celeste wrapping her legs around my waist, and head towards the glass balcony railing. The pool is off to the right-hand side, a perk for spending what I did on this place. Especially when I came home yesterday and saw Celeste’s body in a bikini, using my teeth to pull at the string between her tits, the ones tied on each side of her hips, baring her body to my view and the hot sun, having my wicked way with the woman who’s consuming more than my heart; she’s taking over my soul, too.