Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Very slowly, I reach over to the nightstand and grab the remote. Praying the volume isn’t going to blast the room, I click it on, ready to watch a cooking show. Or a murder documentary because duh. Whatever will tickle my fancy this morning. I can do as I please. I’m on vacation, after all. In Tagger’s perfect-fit-for-me-and-him bed.
I stare at the TV, but the screen is still solid black. And then the blinds start sliding up the windows . . . Crap! I sit straight up, aiming the remote at the three windows and punching buttons, desperate to make them stop and, even better, close.
The remote is swiped from my hand. Tagger pushes one button, and the blinds begin lowering to the sill again.
Blinding light is a terrible way to wake up when you’re not ready. I feel awful. “I’m sorry,” I say just barely above a whisper.
“It’s okay.” Grabbing me by the middle, he pulls me into his arms. “I’m just not ready to get out of bed yet. Not when I have you here with me.” He kisses my head. His patience and sweet words, and the way he makes me feel like his queen make me fall even more for him. Though I’m already head over heels for the man.
I snuggle in with him spooning me from behind and close my eyes. That’s when I realize there’s no rush to hide and no sneaking around when we’re here. It’s a short trip, but we can spend the time however we want. Right now, his arms are a good place to start.
He kisses the back of my bare shoulder. “This feels right. You feel right, babe.”
I’m not a crier. I had to learn to be tougher than any boy out on the ranch to avoid mistreatment, to hide my softer side to earn respect, and move on after my mom’s death like it didn’t hurt me. It destroyed me inside, but I held my chin high like she taught me and carried on doing what needed to get done.
Here, cuddled in Tagger’s warmth, I can be soft and vulnerable. I can cry because tears are for joy as much as they are for pain.
He presses his lips to my skin again, then takes a breath. “Are you okay?”
“More than okay. Happy.” I turn to look into his eyes, wanting to see the sage the morning brings before the jewel tone comes out in the sunshine. Touching his cheek, I reply, “I’m so happy with you.”
Lifting, he kisses my head, then rolls on top of me, anchoring his knees between my legs and spreading them. With our eyes locked together, I open myself up to him, and he pushes inside me. I lift to wrap my legs around his middle as he slowly moves in and out, deliberately easing in before teasing me by slowly pulling back.
The fullness is there, and so is the feeling that I’ll be left empty without him when we’re done. I hate it, but I love this so much more. His eyes study me like he’s memorizing everything that makes me tick. It’s not only making love, it’s the physical art of learning about each other.
I take a breath, briefly closing my eyes, and feel—experience instead of thinking so much.
He leans down and kisses me, our tongues dancing just as slowly as our bodies. The sensation deep in my belly always blooms too soon, the spark of electricity picking up speed as it travels my veins and pushes me closer to finishing. It’s all I want, yet it’s all I want to delay as well.
This is what I want for the rest of my life—this beautifully torturous purgatory—staring into eyes that reflect love back into mine, the gradual build, my desire taking on a life of its own, his hard length, unbending and driving into me over and over again. It’s too much all at once and never enough.
I will never get enough of him.
When Tagger shifts, he hits deeper, forcing me to breathe through the pain to reach the pleasure. He already knows what I need before I crave it. Wrapping my arms around him tighter, I hold on while he picks up speed, taking every thrust and pummel, tease and withdrawal, and then beg him for more. “Please don’t stop. Please.”
This feels too good.
He feels too much.
But I don’t want this to end, not ever. This physical connection gets under my skin and reaches into my heart, binding us together in pure bliss. Happiness.
“So good,” I purr, still holding on to him as if he can save me. “Oh God. Yes. Tagger.”
And when the spring uncoils, my breath is stolen by a kiss. As he swallows my moans, his body feels everywhere and all at once. A hand on my hip and another between my legs coax me to the edge. But it’s the brush of legs against mine, that divot in the sides of his ass, and his hard shoulders that have me feeling both turned on and protected at the same time.