Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“Glad you finally noticed.”
“I always have I was just too afraid to say it out loud.” She clung to my biceps as I switched positions deepening my thrusts causing her to sit up and wrap her arms around me. We stayed like that meeting thrust for thrust, not talking, just existing. And it was everything I wanted us to be.
It was needed after my minor, okay major, freak out. We both found our release like it was the most natural thing in the world, both of us in bed together.
We ended up sprawled across her bed in a tangle of limbs, too exhausted to move. She flipped around so her feet were by my head, her hair tickling my stomach as she giggled.
“Not very dignified for your first officer,” she murmured.
“Correction,” I said, catching her ankle and rubbing lazy circles into her arch. “Captain. Always the captain.”
She snorted into her pillow.
We both went quiet then, staring up at the ceiling, the silence stretching out heavy and fragile.
“Promise me when we wake up,” she whispered, her voice as delicate as the soft demand. “It’ll still be like this.”
I stared at the ceiling, the words almost too much. “I promise.”
I jolted awake hours later. Body hot. Harper hotter.
I needed sleep, I really did, but she was naked. And a naked Harper had always been my personal no-fly zone—never stare too long, never get caught, never let her figure it out. But now? Now I let myself look.
“Not morning yet,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “Doesn’t count. Not adulting time. Do me.”
My mouth curved, even as my pulse spiked. “By my calculations,” I teased, “that would be round three.”
She kicked me in the shin. “Ow!”
Another kick.
“You probably had one of those giant graphing calculators that wouldn’t fit in your pocket, didn’t you? Nerd.”
I grinned through the pain. “Wanna know what else never fits in someone’s pocket—though they’d want to keep it around?”
She blinked at me. “…Wow. That didn’t land the way you wanted it to, did it?”
“Too early,” I admitted.
Her phone pinged, and dread knotted in my chest. Tomorrow would be here soon enough and we had quite the mess to wade through, but we’d do it together.
Harper glanced to her phone.
“Don’t.” I whispered the word, gentle yet commanding.
And in Harper fashion, she ignored me and swiped through the messages anyways.
I exhaled through my nose as I watched her eyes dart across the screen reading. “We’ll handle it.”
“Promise?” She asked, her tone soft, trusting. Her eyes lifted to meet mine and I could have slayed a dragon or drown in their depths, they were so beautiful. Unable to resist, I tugged her in close and brushed my mouth over her temple.
“Promise.”
She pushed up on her knees, crawling toward me, hair wild, mouth dangerous. My throat closed. She stopped just short of my cock, lips inches away, and whispered, “it’s never too early for breakfast, Ezra.”
Breathing? Optional.
“Suddenly I’ve got a thousand fantasies of you on your knees,” I rasped. “Cosplay included. Just let me have five seconds in my head.”
She burst out laughing. “Aww. Want me painted blue next time while I dig around for some unobtanium?”
I laughed—until her tongue flicked my tip. Then I stopped laughing. Stopped breathing. Stopped everything.
“Wasn’t expecting the Avatar reference,” I gasped. “Respect.”
Then she took me all the way in, and I was Lost in Space. Pun intended.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
HARPER
I like you more than my laptop. And you turn me on more than my spreadsheets. This is my confession.
—Ezra, the not so ex, pretending to be Vex and winning the girl.
Freaked out?
Ha ha.
Yes.
No.
…Shit.
Because Ezra was good in bed. Like, unfairly good.
And so not gentle but in the best, most intoxicating way. And hot.
And why did his hair have to look so nice in the morning?
Where the hell did he even find a six-pack? Cycling? A machine? An app? Should I ask?
“Stop staring at me,” he groaned, dragging the pillow over his face. “It’s like you’re scanning me for upload to a 3-D printer. Not your finest moment, Harper. They don’t make them in machines like this.”
“Bummer,” I muttered. “What I wouldn’t do to try two of you at once.”
His hand slid down his face. “Excuse me?”
“My brain went into some really…kinked-up places.” I waved a hand. “How do we feel about bionic hands and, uh, other body parts? Is that a no? Or more of a let’s-see-where-technology-takes-us-and-volunteer-for-the-future vibe?”
He blinked at me. “You’re delirious.”
“I might be sexed out. Maxed out. Tired. Delirious,” I admitted.
I made a face, suddenly serious. “But would the bionic hand be…cold? Because I don’t think I could do cold.”
He scoffed, rolling onto his side to face me. “Naturally it would heat up. Amateurs.”
I flopped onto my back and threw an arm over my eyes. “You are so cocky.”
“Accurate.” He said it like a diagnosis, then went quiet. Too quiet.