Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I’m already drunk on this Sugarbee, devouring her one messy kiss at a time, both of us breathless and making noises that aren’t human.
Her body kills me.
Lush hips and full, heavy breasts that seem strange on her small frame. I’ve been seeing her naked in my head since the first day we met.
And since that first almost-kiss? I haven’t jerked off so much in years, throwing myself under ice-cold showers, only to have Winnie’s pussy invade my mind. Fucking hounding me until I fist-pump ropes of come from my cock.
Now, those ropes may wind up where they belong.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This sickness, it isn’t me.
It’s just making out, one long mistake we should stop any second, as soon as we come to our senses, but my entire body burns.
I rub a thumb along her breast and she gasps in my mouth. Her soft arms cling to my shoulders, pinning her to me.
I sink my teeth into her bottom lip, biting her again.
It’s like she doesn’t know how mad she makes me, how fucking sexy she is.
In hindsight, there’s no way I could’ve resisted the way she bit her lip as she watched me leave. A guarantee with another billion dollars, ten more years of life, and three more inches on my dick couldn’t have turned me away.
Resisting Winnie in the garden was a feat alone.
I don’t know how I managed.
She shreds my self-control with a single green-eyed glance and she doesn’t even know it.
That’s the best kind of seduction.
My favorite kind.
The kind where she’s oblivious to her own vixen power. It’s spontaneous, natural, and so fucking potent I worry I’ve lost brain cells in charge of my reason.
No, it’s not just the fact that I haven’t had so much as a quick hookup in years. Living like a monk for Colt, for my business, that’s been the norm.
It’s not this earthquake rippling through my life that’s taking me apart.
It’s her.
I forgot what pure, unfiltered woman feels like, and Winnie reminds me with every whimpering kiss, every caress of her round tits against my chest.
Holy shit.
I’m snarling hellfire through my teeth as I press her to the wall, shifting my hips so we’re aligned, my cock throbbing so hard it wants to knock me out cold.
We’ve been kissing for two minutes—hell, maybe two days for all I know—and I’m ready to rip right out of my pants.
If we don’t stop now, we never will.
It’s the uncontrollable nature, the feral animal inside me, that makes me breathe like my lungs are torn.
Her leg sweeps around mine, just enough to push her pussy against my thigh, so hot and slick even through the fabric.
“Archer, please. Anything you want,” she whispers. “Anything.”
That last little promise with her voice shaking, so brittle and helpless, jolts me back to my senses.
I throw myself back before I can’t, breaking free from her siren clutches.
We both stare at each other for a second in disbelief, our chests heaving.
Her green eyes are wide and dark.
Her lips look like they’ve been stung by one of those bees out there.
Somehow, I’ve done more damage than any hornet ever could.
I kissed her.
I fucking kissed her.
I fucked her lips with my tongue, promising one new obscene disaster after the next.
More than anything, I fucked myself, sending my soul—or at least my conscience—straight to hell by treating her like a toy.
Archer Rory, you colossal jackass.
It doesn’t matter how bad I want to kiss her again. I’m about to lose my mind and what tiny thread of self-control I’ve gotten back.
“I should go,” I grind out.
Her mouth drops like she wants to say something, but I can’t wait to hear it. Because the instant she asks me to stay, I’m going to march over and strip that shirt off over her head, and then—
No.
No, I can’t take advantage, even if she’s absolutely willing.
So I wheel around and storm back through the front door, damn near panic running to my SUV and setting off fast enough to kick up gravel.
When I dare to look back—big mistake—I see her standing in the doorway, all haunted eyes.
Dust finally obscures her face. Thank God.
I don’t need more heat or confusion or blinding lust.
Not now.
My hard-on jerks uncomfortably against my jeans, cursing me to my grave. I have to adjust myself, wondering if my balls are bluer than Papa Smurf.
Holy fuck, I need a cold bath or three to get her out of my head.
Then I need to forbid myself from ever winding up alone with Winnie again.
In the two days since I kissed her and signed my death warrant, I’ve held three Higher Ends meetings, signed more contracts and stupid damn documents than I can count, and dreaded seeing Rina at this lunch at Mom’s.
Any one of those things should be on my mind. Especially Rina and all the bad memories she brings, along with stale suspicion.