Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Don’t you see I can take good care of you, if you let me?
It was a strange, unbidden thought, but I was wrapped in so much inexplicable desire for him that I was tired of shoving it away.
“There,” I told him, looking up at his eyes. “Was that so bad?”
He just gave me a look and headed back out into the living room. I followed, expecting him to ask me to leave.
“Tell me you’re not going to fuck up my life.”
That wasn’t what I’d been expecting.
He was standing at the edge of his couch, on the plush white carpet near the glass coffee table, still shirtless. He looked so lickable, from his toned chest all the way down to the small, faint amount of hair leading down his stomach toward his cock.
His skin looked so smooth, and all I wanted to do was touch him again.
God, I really, really fucking wanted him.
“I don’t want to ruin your life at all, Fancy,” I said. “But I’m going to do whatever the hell I want to do, just like always.”
He cocked his head to one side. “And that includes kissing guys?”
“Not kissing guys,” I clarified. “Kissing you. Maybe doing more than kissing you.”
I walked over to him, reaching out to grip his waist. His perfect little fucking waist. Strong and supple, and so warm. I groaned softly as I felt my fingertips on his smooth skin. Knowing Emmett, he must have had some elaborate, ten-step daily skincare routine, pampering himself from head to toe. He smelled good. He felt good. Every inch of him was irresistible, as far as I could tell.
“More than kissing sounds pretty off-base for a straight guy,” Emmett said, but I felt him leaning into my touch, coming closer toward me as my fingers skated across the skin of his lower back.
“Maybe I’m not straight, then,” I said off the cuff. “Maybe I don’t know what the fuck I am. Maybe it doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter, though,” he shot back at me.
I groaned. “Fine. I know it does. But all I feel right now is that I like touching you, okay? And I love when you touch me, even though you’re a mouthy, infuriating piece of work and I also want to punch you in the face about ten times an hour.”
He hummed, his gaze skating over me, looking at me like I pissed him off just as much. He reached up to grip my shoulders and with surprising strength, he pushed me back and down onto the couch behind us, tackling me until he was on top of me.
Fuck yes, Emmett, I thought silently, my heart pounding in my chest. Quit doubting everything and just fucking take me if you want me.
Suddenly I was sitting back on his couch, my entire field of view full of nothing but him. His eyes were wild like they had been before, looking down at me.
I reached forward, grabbing one of his hands and gently holding it in mine. His hands were a bit smaller than mine, and holding his hand felt almost tender.
“You’re stupid if you think I don’t want you, Emmett,” I told him softly and evenly.
“You’re stupid if you don’t think you’re going to get up tomorrow morning full of nothing but regret, if we do… more, together.”
“More,” I pressed, “like the things I’ve been thinking about nonstop? The things that have been driving me crazy?”
His eyes were so beautiful. Green, but also gold a little around the edges, I could see now.
“Like how much I bother you?” he asked.
“Like how I want to feel your cock between my lips,” I told him bluntly. I watched as his eyes blew wide, almost like he was in a daze.
“Storm,” he whispered.
“I want to know what you look like when you come. What you sound like,” I told him, squeezing his hand harder in mine. “I like driving you crazy. And I’m not afraid to give you more. Every time I see you, I just want another taste—”
He pulled his hand away from mine and reached up to my hair, running his fingers through it and giving it a tug. He leaned closer toward me, his face just inches above mine, holding my gaze.
His lips were on mine again in an instant. This time, his kiss was different than all of the others. It was still hungry, but it wasn’t rushed—Emmett was leaning his body down onto the front of mine, letting the slick heat of his tongue come out against mine with a satisfied, slow patience.
Almost like he was teasing something out of me.
Taking his time.
Letting his movements be slow and firm, controlling the smoldering fire inside me like he was my fucking puppeteer.
Every nerve in my body lit up as he leaned against me, running an open palm down my chest. Somehow I’d finally managed to convince him that I wasn’t going to get up and run away screaming just because he was a man. He still didn’t like me. I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. But I’d gotten through to him. When it came to being physical, I craved more every time I was near him.