Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Her hands roam my chest, exploring, and I flex just because I can. Just because her touch always feels electric. She tries not to react, but her eyes go a little wider when her palms graze my abs. There's nothing clinical about the way she's touching me this time. It's all heat and promise, and I fucking love it.
I keep my hands under her shirt, but I don't move higher than her waist. Not yet. I want her to set the pace.
She surprises me by grabbing my hand and guiding it to the swell of her breast.
Jesus Christ. There's no bra between my fingers and her skin.
My brain short-circuits.
She shivers when my thumb brushes her nipple, clinging to me again, her breath a hot little whimper in my ear.
I want to rip her shirt off, throw her down, and fuck her until she's screaming for me, but I force myself to go slow. She deserves slow. Hell, she deserves everything.
I kiss her again, softer this time, then pull back just enough to meet her gaze. "Can I see you, baby?"
She blinks silently. For a second, I think I've pushed too far, but then she nods, slow and deliberate, like she's deciding something important.
"Yeah," she says, her voice so quiet I barely catch it. "I want you to."
I sit up, keeping her in my lap, and tug her borrowed shirt off over her head. She helps, awkward and graceless, and for a moment we both just stare at each other, neither of us breathing.
She's fucking gorgeous.
I run my hands along her sides, memorizing the curve of her waist, the softness of her stomach, the perfect weight of her in my hands.
"Goddamn, Sunshine," I rasp.
She blushes, ducking her head, but I don't let her hide from me.
I tilt her chin up, kissing her gently. "Never hide from me, Dani. You're beautiful. Christ, you have no idea how much I love what I'm seeing right now."
That's nothing but the truth. I'm so hard that it's actually painful. My heart is lodged somewhere near my throat. My skin hums. It's basically the exact opposite of anaphylaxis.
She shivers, an adorable blush spreading across her cheek before her hands slide down, plucking at the waistband of my boxers.
"You want them off?"
"Well, I certainly don't want to be this naked alone, Trent."
I chuckle, not because it's funny, but because I'm so goddamn happy I feel like I might explode apart.
We're both a mess. My hair is wild, her cheeks are flushed, and we're both trembling with anticipation.
I've never considered myself a patient man. On the ice, I wait for openings, sure, but in real life? Fuck no. I want what I want, and I want it now.
But with Dani, slow is the only speed that matters.
I kiss her everywhere. Every. Fucking. Where. Her mouth, her chin, the hollow of her collarbone. She tastes like sleep and vanilla, the sweetest combination. My hands move like I'm starved—down her back, across her ribs, my thumbs skimming the underside of her perfect tits.
She arches into my touch, and the sound she makes—soft, shocked, needy—lights me up like a damn Christmas tree.
"Thought about doing this every time you had your hands on me, Sunshine," I murmur.
I kiss down her chest, wrapping my tongue around one hard nipple, and she shivers. Her hands are in my hair again, dragging me closer. She's breathing hard, already wound tight.
I let my hands drift down before hooking my thumbs into the waistband of her panties. And then I pause, looking up at her, just to make sure. "Can I?"
She nods, wild-eyed, but I need to hear the words.
"Say it, Dani," I murmur, my voice a thick rasp. "Tell me you want this."
She blushes—fuck, she's so cute—but there's steel in her gaze. "I want you," she whispers. "Please."
I slide her panties off, tossing them somewhere over my shoulder. I doubt they'll be found until next Christmas. And then I just stare for a second, because she's even more beautiful than I imagined, all bare and pink and dripping wet.
She tries to close her legs like she wants to hide from me, but I catch her knees and spread them, settling between her thighs.
"Goddamn," I whisper, meaning it. Goddamn, she's perfect. Goddamn, I can't believe this is all for me. Goddamn, I think I may have actually died and gone to heaven yesterday.
"Trent," she whimpers.
I stroke her inner thigh, reveling in the way she tenses and melts beneath my touch. I want to memorize every sound she makes, every gasp and moan.
I kiss lower, nipping at her lower belly, then her hip bones, and then the soft flesh of her thigh. She's so wet already. I smell her tangy sweetness, and my fucking mouth waters.
She squirms, gasping, and I grin against her skin. Am I allowed to keep her here, just like this, forever?