Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I can’t care what she does. Doing so only opens doors I’ve refused to even acknowledge my entire life.
But maybe this isn’t about any of that. As I walk closer to the bathroom, I assure myself that the only reason Sylvie Davis has the ability to get under my skin is because I flirted with her and she shot me down. Of course, I know she had good reason. I can’t imagine a woman ever forgetting time they spent with me, and that’s more about my skill level in bed than ego. It’s impossible for a woman to hide the pleasure they feel with me. She wouldn’t be the first woman to dislike me as a man and still come harder than ever before on my cock. There’s something to be said about hate sex, and if she’s willing, I’m not the fool that’s going to turn her down.
Unlike earlier when she came out of the bathroom with her hair piled high on her head, Sylvie is completely drenched, water sloshing over the top of her head, shoving a curtain of bubbles over her pristine skin.
My fingers fucking itch with the need to touch every inch of her. My mouth waters for the taste of her nipples on my tongue. My cock throbs with the thought of slipping inside of her.
My hands move of their own volition as I strip to the skin and climb into the small shower with her.
Chapter 15
Sylvie
He’s toying with me. That’s the only explanation for why I climbed in the shower alone. His offer this morning was a tease, a way to gain the upper hand.
I can handle a lot of things in my life, but rejection has always been something I struggled with. I hate him even more for toying with me.
I have no idea why I offered him the opportunity to join me.
Okay, that’s not exactly true. I walked into the room and there he was, both somehow happy to see me and insanely mad at the same time. He cared. He was concerned for my safety and maybe a little jealous that I left the grocery store with Will. It was leagues better than the day I realized he didn’t even remember me. All of it is fucking with my head.
It’s like I have a point to prove, but I also don’t know why I’m even wasting my time with him.
Good sex only goes so far when the end result is a man looking at you like he’s never seen you before in his life.
We’ve spent more time together, so I’m not worried that if he would’ve joined me in the shower he’d forget me the next day, but acting like he wants to fuck me again only to turn me down stings more than I thought it could.
I jolt, wincing as shampoo stings my eyes, when a warm hand circles my hip.
I shove at him, doing my best to ignore my fingers brushing his muscled chest before quickly pulling them away and sweeping water into my burning eyes.
The soap sting fades, but it’s quickly replaced with the burn of tears. I’m not one to get overly emotional about a man, so I have no idea why the relief of him stepping in here with me is making me a little insane.
My first instinct is to tell him to fuck off, rescind the invitation, but my memories of him that night win out. I know how skilled this man is. I know the pleasure he can give. I can easily recall the glint in his eyes, telling me that he enjoys giving pleasure as much, if not more, than getting it. It’s addictive, the feel of his fingers trailing up my sweat-soaked skin.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “You scared me.”
He grunts, knowing I’m full of shit but choosing not to call me out on it.
I sweep water from my face, raising my eyes to his.
His lips parts as he swipes his tongue over water droplets forming there, his green eyes intense.
Neither of us say a word as I reach for his hand and lift it to cup my breast. His eyes stay locked on mine as his thumb sweeps over the peaked tip.
My body heats further when he steps in closer to me, his chest brushing against mine, his thickening cock making itself known as it presses to my lower belly.
The shower turns off as his lips skate over the column of my throat, the hand he used to do so gripping my ass.
Neither of us say a word as he urges me out of the shower. I’m grateful he simply hands me a towel before grabbing one of his own. If this man displayed any form of sweetness by drying my skin, I’d lose it. I never knew this trip would take such an emotional toll on me. I want to cry and scream and throw shit all at the same time.