Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
My body sang in response to just seeing my name on his lips, his expression, the heat emanating from his body. From the power that pulsed through my veins at seeing Beau undone.
“Beau,” I whispered, my voice breathy with need, tipping my head back.
One of his hands left the wall, and his fingertips traced over my jaw, trailing down the column of my neck then between my breasts.
My thighs squeezed together as my pussy pulsed, my nipples pebbling against the thin fabric of my camisole.
I arched my back into his hands, aching for more than just the tip of his finger. But he didn’t give me that. His fingertip crept between my breasts then down, over the top of my camisole, missing my aching nipples, brushing over my navel, then down to the side of my hip where he palmed my ribs, grasping on to me with the same grip on my shoulder—tight enough to show his urgency, his need, but never enough to hurt.
I was barely able to hold myself up. Barely able to breathe with his hands on me. In my wildest dreams, I never thought I’d be here, pinned to the wall by Beau. My wanton advance had been a Hail Mary—a moment of madness. I hadn’t thought that it would result in this, in Beau showing me he wanted me. Wanted me a lot more than even I had dared to dream. I’d only let myself think he wanted me because he was a man, one who had denied himself pleasures of the flesh in the wake of his daughter’s terrible illness. And he wanted me because I was just … female, not hideous, and the closest, despite his dislike for me.
But his gaze, his energy, his reverent touch, the way the column of his neck tensed, veins protruding in restraint as he stared at me… all of that denoted a heck of a lot more than biological want. No, he’d been hiding this under glares, cruel words, and dismissals. The weight of his need for me almost brought me to my knees.
My head was buzzing from the rapid change in our dynamic, at the rush of feelings I’d been denying myself because I was embarrassed to want someone who treated me so badly. A magnetism toward Beau, his presence, his size, his brooding, hurt gaze. All of it had been catnip to me.
My lips parted, and my tongue darted out to lick them. But we were so close that my tongue brushed his lips too. The contact was a shock to my system. It was ecstasy, it was the promise of a kiss that would blow my mind.
As if it weren’t already fucking blown.
The act of running my tongue along the seam of Beau’s lips while we were both panting, tearing away the façade that we had both apparently built with each other, was mind-blowing.
Everything was so exciting, forbidden, and perfect all at once. My body hummed as heat licked up my thighs.
I leaned forward to press my lips to his, to explore his mouth, to set off the absolute nuclear bomb that would lay waste to me if Beau kissed me.
But he stepped back, abruptly, stealing the warmth of his body, the electricity of his presence.
He backed up three strides then began to pace around the room, tearing his fingers through his hair. I watched him, still plastered to the wall, trying to catch my breath and decide if I was going to erupt in flames or dissolve into a puddle on the floor.
Beau stopped pacing to stare at me, his intense gaze pinning me to the spot. His eyes slowly ran over me, displaying a yearning that I didn’t know existed.
“I’m old enough to be your father,” he barked out as if I’d said something. I hadn’t. I’d just been panting like a wild animal.
I didn’t flinch at his tone because I saw the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the flare of his eyes, the change in his posture. He was turned on. His lasciviousness tortured him. I had that power over Beau Shaw.
“If you impregnated someone in middle school,” I challenged him, still breathing heavily, still looking at him through some very rose-tinted glasses.
I was more than aware of our age gap. More than aware of the daddy issues that probably made it more appealing to me. I didn’t care much about either. I wanted him.
Now.
On the floor. On the couch. In his bed. Against the wall. I wasn’t picky. I just needed relief from the tension that was making my skin feel impossibly tight, had my insides clenching with the need for … Beau.
As if I communicated all of this with just my hooded gaze, Beau crossed the distance between us even quicker than he created it. His hands caged me against the wall again, this time careful not to touch me.