Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
A lazy throb starts to dully thump against my thigh, and I freeze and hold my breath when I feel him stirring. My body responds, a heaviness falling between my legs. The air suddenly feels thick, and I pull back just a fraction so I can get him in my sights. His eyelids flicker, his lips part. Waiting for him to open them feels like an eternity.
“Open,” I whisper, reaching for his hair and combing my fingers through.
His eyes pop open on a small hitch of breath, his sleepy gaze meeting mine immediately. How those grey eyes shine. The throbbing against my leg becomes more intense, and in answer my insides start to pulse. It’s a long few moments of gazing, and when I realise Dec’s not going to make the first move—because . . . Dec—I take the lead, lowering my lips to his. He keeps his eyes open, as do I, and when our tongues brush, he exhales heavily, cupping the back of my head and rolling me onto my back. My thighs cradle him, his hips shift, my legs spread, and he pushes into me painstakingly slowly, his exhale ragged, my inhale long and deep. The moment he’s filling me to the hilt, he stills, giving us both a moment to adjust, deepening his kiss. My hands are on a feeling frenzy across his back as he drags his lips up my cheek and rests them on my forehead. Connected physically as closely as two humans can be connected. But this is more than that. I don’t look at Dec and see escape in the pleasure of his body. I look at him and want to walk into his chest and be held. I look at him and see hope. I look at him and feel my heart burst with love and appreciation.
He withdraws and advances slowly, and I graze my fingertips down his spine as he kisses his way back to my mouth and sweeps his tongue through. His body stills, as does his lips, and he pulls his shoulder blades in on a soft hiss into my mouth. “Tickles,” he murmurs, as he kicks inside of me. My fingers pause. “Don’t stop.” Pushing into his forearms, he lifts his torso a tiny bit, his chest peeling away from my boobs, and he slowly inches out and works his way back inside me. “I like it.” Grey eyes glisten down at me as I try to remember to breathe while he takes me to the clouds. His usually well-groomed stubble is scruffier, his mussed hair mussier.
I work my fingertips farther down, circling over his backside, and back up again, going extra slow, applying the faintest of pressure, watching with fascination as his eyes become heavier and his chest expands. A suppressed groan vibrates at the back of his throat, his rhythm faltering. “Jesus.” He swoops down and claims my mouth again, finding his pace again, slow, meticulous, bloody beautiful. I moan my pleasure, my back bowing, my head shaking. He finds my throat and licks up the column to my ear, biting down on my lobe.
“Dec,” I breathe, slipping my hands into his hair and clenching fistfuls. Oh God.
“Tell me how it feels,” he whispers, his low, grainy voice in my ear shoving me closer to the edge.
I can’t find the words. Couldn’t speak them if I did. Dropping my head, I pull his face from my neck and look at him. I look at him closer than I’ve ever looked at a man before. And the way he looks at me?
It’s restorative.
I swallow, the words coming to me, but I can’t get them past the lump in my throat. This isn’t a lump caused by grief. It’s a lump triggered by hope. That I could have even some semblance of consistent happiness again has been past my comprehension. “I love you.”
He shakes his head mildly, and plunges his tongue into my mouth, upping the ante, kissing me hard but briefly before tearing his mouth away and gasping down at me. Every drive goes deeper, our bodies rolling together like waves, the pressure building to the point I feel like I’m losing my mind. Sweat starts to dot my skin, my moans become breathy gasps, my light stroking of his back becoming scratches.
The veins in his neck bulge. “I’m coming,” he murmurs. “Camryn, I’m coming.”
His words propel me over the edge, and I whimper, my stomach muscles contracting, and I bury my face in his neck as I come, electricity cutting through me. “Oh God,” I breathe, trembling from the force, as Dec jerks, stills, and groans, pushing deeper, his big body soaking up my shakes.
“Fuck.” He collapses, swathing me, one forearm keeping his body from squishing me. “Okay?” he pants.
I throw my arms out to my sides, breathless, as his heavy head lifts with effort, his brow hitching too. “Camryn?”