Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
God, the sweetness of that. Of him. Because he meant it—she could see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch. And it was all the sweeter because she’d let him know her, let him see her, and neither of those things had changed his mind. “You’re my dream come true too,” she said. She meant it too. She hadn’t known herself well enough when they were kids to know how right he was for her. But she did now. Thank you, God, for this second chance. Thank you for bringing this man back to me for however long that might be.
He allowed her to touch him to her heart’s content, the deepening flush of his cheeks and the quickening of his pulse speaking of his pleasure and raising her confidence even higher. When she stroked his shaft again, his head fell back, and he let out a groan that sounded pained and she loved it, but she also didn’t want this to end while they were upright.
She took his hand and they tumbled onto the bed, Cami laughing when Rex let out a teasing sound of pain as if he’d broken something when he hit the soft mattress. More sweetness—he was making this good, but he was also making it fun. He wanted her to laugh, and she did.
“I hope you’re not that delicate,” she said.
“Not even close.”
They spent more time learning each other’s bodies, fingers and mouths exploring every dip and swell. They both lingered in the places they found enticing, his lips on the sensitive spot between her breasts, and then in the hollow of her hip before moving downward and nuzzling her between her legs. She gripped his hair, feeling the swirl of an orgasm. She didn’t want it, not yet. Everything he did to her was both too much and not enough, so she hung suspended, her breath stilted, skin flushed. She needed him inside her, wanted him desperately to fill her emptiness, to hold her, to surrender to his control, to grip him as she came.
“Cami,” he murmured against her skin, lifting his head so his eyes could meet hers. “I don’t have a condom.”
“I’m on the pill,” she told him, and though her brain was foggy, and nothing seemed as important as feeling him inside her, she realized, somewhere in the back of her mind, that this was a man she could trust to take care of her in every single way. He was not someone who would walk out the door, not under any circumstances. He was a man who showed up, not one who left.
As if he’d heard her half-formed thoughts and sensed her surety, he moved up her body, nudging her legs open and then entering her slowly.
He held eye contact until he was fully inside, pelvis to pelvis as his body quivered and his lips parted on a pleasured exhale. “That okay?” he whispered, again, reverently.
“Yes, more than okay,” she answered.
Still he waited for a moment, searching her eyes, giving her a moment, even as his own body pulsed inside her. And the way he was holding back for her brought her fully into the present. She gripped the globes of his ass, encouraging him to move. He groaned with relief, and then his head dropped to her neck, and he thrust inside her, his breath gusting against her skin. Oh. Oh God, that feels good.
She tilted her hips and took him deeper, and he cursed, the word a garbled groan that made her smile. They rocked together, moving slowly at first and then faster, sweat breaking out on his back so that his skin was hot and slick. This, this moment, it meant everything to her. Her lust for him scalded away the fear. It burned so bright that the memories melted away. It was only him. She lived in the moment. It was breathtaking. It was primal beauty, pure and simple, and the natural rightness spoke to her body, but also her soul.
Whether he loved her or not, she didn’t know, but he made her feel that way. He made her feel worshipped and revered. He helped her step into her body—she’d never felt more present in her skin—and then she could hang on no longer.
She came first, in a lightning strike of mind-melting pleasure that caused her to cry out his name and grip his shoulders so she wouldn’t fly away. She honestly thought she might. He waited for her, the bicep in the arm holding him up on the bed so flexed she could see his veins. He’d been holding out, and when he finally let go, she felt it, not only in the jerk of his hips and then the hot splash of his release on her stomach as he pulled from her body, but in the loosening of his every muscle.