Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
What did that mean for Priest?
Did it matter? Priest irreparably hurt me, and Ashley was betrothed. In the end, I would end up alone. Or hanged.
Which was why I needed to stick to the plan. Love hurt. It betrayed and ruined. My plan was safe. It protected me, not Ashley or Priest. It ensured I wouldn’t be the one destroyed in the end.
Not only that, Priest was on my tail right now, and he wouldn’t be receptive to discovering I’d fallen in love with another man.
Had I fallen?
No, not quite. But as our gazes melded, those eyes held mine with an intensity that filled a terrible void inside me. The way he looked at me made me feel special, desired, almost loved.
I was doomed.
My need for this, for the sort of all-consuming love I could have with Ashley… It was greater than my survival. It was more essential than life. More significant than death. It was immutable. Immortal. Beyond all doubt and faith.
I needed him, plain and simple. Which meant I could never hurt him. I could never let Priest hurt him.
As I slowly came to terms with this, I was fantastically, undeniably terrified out of my mind.
I tried to straighten my twisting thoughts, tried to curve my lips into a casual smile, but nothing worked right. Not my brain. Not my mouth. I was cracking. Weakening. Losing my sanity.
We sat motionless, bodies entangled, gazes locked, sequestered together in the fading light, for no other reason than because we fit so perfectly this way.
It was too real. I wanted this too badly.
Doomed.
I looked away, but his stare stayed with me. His eye contact… Good God, it was more intimate and private than anything I’d ever experienced. Staring at him felt like making love, only closer, deeper, farther reaching.
What was this sorcery?
“Bennett.” His accent caressed. A delicious torment. Sensual. Excruciating.
I closed my eyes, trying in vain to draw air. The need he roused in me was so beautiful and frightening it was all I could do not to weep. I felt it rising—the scalding emotion, the swelling in my throat, the wetness behind my eyelids.
Warm hands framed my face. “Look at me.”
I placed a palm on his chest to push him away. He covered my touch, flattening it to flexed muscle. His heart hammered, strong and fast, and mine tripped over itself to keep up.
Opening my eyes, I found his lips an inch away, the tantalizing seam parting, drifting closer. “What are you—?”
“Your kiss, madam.” He planted it on me, buried it in me, deep and devastating, with a pledge to grow.
His mouth imparted so much passion and potency it stunned my senses. The sensual glide of his lips, the twist of his fingers in my hair, the roll of his tongue against mine—the execution put me to death and brought me back to life.
My chest heaved with the force of my gasps, threatening to tip my breasts over the stays. Then my legs were shifting, readjusting with the help of his hands. We moved together, bringing our bodies as close as possible on the chair.
I settled onto his hard, powerful thighs, straddling his hips—all of which gave his mouth better access to mine.
With my fingers in his hair, and his arms holding me tight, he kissed me through vast, unexplored eternities.
I poured everything into the union. Every part of me filling with heat and giving it back to him ten-fold. He mated with my mouth as though the connection was all he wanted, all he needed. I sank into his passion, welcoming his hard body between my legs as he rotated his hips and ground against my aching.
He felt wonderful, so solid and male and him, the man I’d slept next to for a week. I flicked my tongue against his, whirling, teasing, tasting the sky and the sea and every desire between.
“Touch me.” He panted against my mouth, his hand sliding down the front of my stays.
His lips feasted, and his palm covered my breast, encouraging me to explore.
I didn’t slow at setting my fingers upon the muscled meat of his abdomen, but glided my touch downward, reaching into the space between our spread legs. There, I clutched his throbbing response.
“Christ.” His sharp grunt fanned against my lips, and his hand tightened on my breast.
Holy mother, he was enormous. I traced the swollen outline through his breeches, following the hard curve along his thigh. The length of him stretched from my wrist to my fingertips and farther still. He was thick, too. Thick enough to feel for days after he impaled it.
“Are you pleased?” He grasped my arm, holding my hand against his erection.
“What?” I didn’t like the sudden clip in his tone or the meanness in his grip.
“Does the size of my hunger meet expectations?”
“Exceeds, I should think.” I pulled on my arm. “If you unhand me, I’ll show you my appreciation.”