Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
She swallowed hard, the doubt gone from her expression. “I hear you. But I need you to be quiet now or I’ll cry.”
“You’re already crying.”
“No, I’m not.”
His lips twitched. “My mistake.”
Her heart aching in a good way now, Quinley stayed still as he gently thumbed away her tears. He touched his lips to her forehead, pressing a feather-light kiss there. He pressed another to the outer corner of one eye … then to the outer corner of her other eye … then to her nose … then to the curve of her mouth.
His lips brushed over hers in a butterfly kiss. Again. And again. And again, adding a little more pressure each time.
His tongue sank into her mouth—just a shallow dip, flicking the tip of her own tongue. The kiss was light and easy and sensual. It went on and on, only pausing as he peeled off their clothes. Then he gently lowered her on the rug in front of the fireplace and took her right there.
It wasn’t slow and hard like the other night. It was soft and lazy. He touched her with an aching tenderness, a hint of reverence there. And possession. So much possession, reminding her who’d claimed her. When she came, he pounded into her like a savage until he finally exploded inside her.
Afterward, he collapsed over her in that way he always did. His face buried in her neck, he licked and blew over the brand there.
Softly dragging her fingertips over his back, doodling patterns, she became aware of something. Something that had made her cat sprawl to the floor with a satisfied purr.
Quinley tensed about the exact same time as he did. Ever so slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze captivating in its intensity. She licked her lips. “It isn’t my imagination, is it?”
He shook his head. “No. No, it’s not. We’re wearing each other’s scent.”
Which meant imprinting had officially begun. A thought that made her chest go tight and pulled a smile from her very soul. It just … there were no words to really describe what this meant to her; what it did to her insides.
His eyes flashed with satisfaction, but then they darkened. Heated. Fairly glowed with possession as his cock hardened inside her.
“Again?” she asked.
He rumbled a growl. “Again.”
This time, he fucked her hard. Held nothing back. Took everything, gave the same in return. And he bit right over her claiming brand as they both came.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“It doesn’t matter how many times I watch this movie I never get sick of it,” said Quinley.
With her sat between his thighs on the sofa as he pretty much wrapped himself around her, it was easy for Isaiah to dip his hand into the bag of chocolate drops she held. That she didn’t bite his fingers was a testament to the level of comfortability they had—black-foots didn’t share food with just anyone.
He threw two chocolate drops into his mouth. “So it’s a favorite, then?”
“Yes, but I only ever watch it in December—and usually only on this very evening each year.” Tipping her head right back to meet his gaze, she asked, “How do you usually spend Christmas Eve?”
“I don’t really treat it differently than any other day.”
She grimaced. “Oh, you poor soul. That’s just sad.”
He felt his lips curve. “And you do this every year?” he asked, his gaze sweeping from the movie to the wide selection of snacks on the coffee table.
“Watch Christmas movies and pig out? Yup.”
Typically, Quinley didn’t do well with sitting still for long periods, so he was honestly surprised she’d been content to laze about for several hours straight. Then again, the abundance of candy, cookies, and other snacks were probably responsible for that.
They’d spent the whole day together, aside from the hour she’d disappeared upstairs to finish wrapping the gifts she’d then stuffed under the tree with the others.
“You’re free to leave me to my own devices and go do whatever you want,” she said. “I don’t expect you to lounge about with me.”
“I like lounging about with you.” He nabbed another chocolate drop and threw it into his mouth. “There’s beer at hand, more snacks than even you could eat—”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“—and I get to feel you up.” He cupped her breast over her sweater and squeezed. “What’s not to like?”
“How come I don’t get to feel you up?” she groused.
“Because I said so.”
“Lame.” She righted her head, returning her attention to the TV.
Smiling, Isaiah nuzzled her neck and pulled her closer. She fit against him just right. Fit there like she’d been born to. He couldn’t imagine that another person would suit him better than she did.
His father had said the same of Andaya, just as Deke had said the same of Bailey. Originally, Isaiah hadn’t really understood how a shifter could feel that way about anyone other than their true mate, the literal other half of their soul.