Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Inching closer, his lips grazed my ear as he spoke, his beautifully deep voice drowning out the noise around us. “I know any other day you’re a blonde-haired angel, but this bonfire makes you look like a sinful devil.”
A smile pulled my lips and I did my best to not let his compliment affect me. “Do you say that to all the girls?” I gently teased, my own lips grazing his warm cheek.
“This is my first bonfire, so… no.” I giggled because the man had a point. “Besides,” he continued, “I haven’t met one worthy enough… until now.”
My heart thudded hard against my ribs, the feel of his lips tingling my skin, his sweet and spicy cologne affecting my senses. I had never felt like this. No man had ever had such an instant effect on me. I knew then and there that this man was going to bring me to my knees in more ways than one, and I was going to enjoy every second of it.
“You know all the right things to say, don’t you?”
He pulled away to look me in the eyes. They were beautiful. Eyes I could drown in. We were both sober drivers, so we couldn’t blame alcohol for how we were responding to each other. “You make it easy,” Shawn said, and my knees grew weak. “I know a place.” He continued, “I think you’ll love it.”
“Whoa, cowboy,” I laughed nervously, placing my hands on his muscular chest. I was so taken aback at how firm he felt that I was more than prepared to go anywhere with this stranger. “You’re moving a bit fast.” I hated the words as soon as they left my mouth because I was more than happy to move fast with him.
He frowned. “Too fast for pie?”
Pie?
Sensing my confusion, he continued, “I know the best pie place in town. Cherry. But not the fake cherries.”
“You’re taking me for pie?”
“I am.”
My eyes traveled the length of his body, taking in every curve of muscle. “You don’t strike me as the pie-eating type.”
He smiled cheekily. “Every Friday without fail.”
“Today is Friday,” I said slowly, considering his invitation.
Shawn raised his brows expectantly and I giggled at his enthusiasm. “What about the others?”
“It’s too early for them to come up for air. Let’s see what we can get up to in a few hours.”
Twenty minutes later, we sat side by side, thighs touching, in a diner on the main strip. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, a groan escaping my lips. “This…” I said through a mouthful of pie, “is the best I’ve ever eaten. It’s… it’s ever so slightly orgasmic.”
“Only ever so slightly?”
“Okay, it’s a full climax.”
“I’d like to see that.”
I turned slowly to meet his deep, penetrable gaze and I tingled in all the right areas. I wanted him to see the effect he had on me, but I made him wait. A week and half after we officially started dating, I finally gave in to the cravings. I’d wanted to devour him from the moment we’d met, but I didn’t want to be a hit and run. I wanted more with this man and he respected that because he too wanted the same. When we did make love, he took me hard and fast and then slow and deep. His cock took some getting used to, and he was always patient at the beginning until the pain gave way to pleasure.
Then it was fair game.
Shawn ravaged me day and night, in between lectures and during private study, proving his insatiable desire for me. We lusted and we loved, and within a year, Shawn asked me to marry him. Despite everyone objecting to my young age, pressuring me to explore the world before settling down, our marriage was the envy of anyone who knew or saw us. Our passion never faltered, and we always operated as a team, even if at times our opinions differed.
No one could come between us.
No one could destroy what came so naturally to us.
Until a year ago when everything changed.
When suddenly our perfect turned into a distant memory in less than a heartbeat. Shawn had swept me off my feet and didn’t put me back on the ground until he decided one day to stop loving me. Some would describe it as the seven-year itch—being that it was exactly six years at the time—but it was so much worse than that. There’s no way to adequately describe the feeling of loss. Someone may as well have died.
“I’ve thought about it,” Shawn replies brashly without giving my proposal the time of day. “I’m far too busy.”
“Shawn, if you haven’t noticed, our marriage is in crisis and going—”
“Blythe,” he says my name as if I’m an intolerable child. His impatient eyes meet mine and for the first time, he holds my gaze. “This…” he gestures from me to him with a cutting gesture, “I can’t do this right now. So, please, get off my case.” There’s a flicker of remorse when he notes my crestfallen face, but as quick as it came, it’s replaced with his familiar cold eyes.