Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
As I slip past him, I deliberately pull away just out of his reach, backing toward the steps and loving how intensely he looks at me.
The man stalks after me like a hunter and fills me with a thrill.
This big, powerful beast—and I’ve practically got him on a leash, drawing him after me with every step.
“You wanna play games, Butterfly?” he rumbles, his voice scorched.
“Maybe I just want to be civilized,” I tease, reaching back to find the stair rail and guiding myself up the first few steps. “At least use the bed. Don’t make me beg you to take me over the back of the sofa like a heathen.”
His expression darkens deliciously as his eyes rake me from head to toe.
“Ophelia, fuck,” he snarls. “There ain’t a goddamned thing civilized about what I’m about to do to you.”
Holy hell.
There’s a frozen moment where I realize what he’s about to do as his body tenses and lowers slightly.
And I let out a laughing squeal and turn, bolting up the stairs with a wild man hot on my heels.
I don’t make it far.
He has too long of a stride—and let’s be real—I want to be caught tonight.
I want to be his more than I want my next breath.
And it fills me with electric excitement and heady joy when he catches me on the stairs and sweeps me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest.
The reality of Grant wanting me and making no secret of it is better than any childish daydream. I can’t help grinning as I twine my arms around his neck, looking up at him.
“Oh, no,” I lilt tauntingly. “The big bad wolf’s caught Little Red. Whatever are you going to do with me?”
“Drop you on your knees and put your brat mouth to work,” he growls, even as his grip on me tightens and he carries me toward his bedroom with determined steps. “Or I could just throw you down here, make you sit on my face, and eat you alive.”
Dead.
I’m sure I’m not alive anymore as I look at him and whisper, “I don’t think I’d mind being eaten.”
“Woman, you’re gonna regret saying that when I take you literally,” Grant says, then elbows the door open and carries me into his room.
I barely get a flash of the moonlight-drenched space, the dark masculine colors, the Spartan neatness, the heavy solid furniture before he’s tumbling me onto the bed.
I sprawl out on my back against the comforter, and my entire world becomes Grant.
Him kneeling over me and his bulk takes up my entire field of vision.
His hands fall, flanking both sides of my body until his arms cage me.
His eyes glowing like bonfires in the darkness, that handsome face hovering over mine, gleaming with a hunger I’ve never seen.
My heart throbs violently.
I reach up to stroke his jaw, his beard—and his animalistic stare softens as he leans into my touch, rubbing himself against my skin like the wild thing he is, stealing my breath away.
Feral.
Powerful.
Stubborn.
Harsh.
And allowing me to touch him like I’m the only force in the world that can ever tame him.
Oh, I want this man to make me his so much.
“Grant,” I whisper, trailing my fingers down his throat. “Grant, kiss me.”
“I never wanted to stop,” he exhales roughly, sinking down to reclaim my mouth.
There’s a tremor now, almost like he’s holding back a raging river with the flimsiest dam.
The way he kisses me with such gentleness, but with such tension lashing through his body.
A body that presses down slowly as he lowers over me.
And God, I almost forget the feeling of his lips against mine when I discover how delicious it feels to be under a man this huge.
There may have been a couple men in my life while I was away from Redhaven, sure—but no one had Grant’s sheer size or overwhelming presence.
No one else could ever take his place.
Not in my mind.
Not in my heart.
Definitely not in the desperate craving of my flesh.
I crush myself against him, arching my back, leaning up into the heat of his wild, surging kiss.
His mouth nearly bruises mine, all harsh beard and seething lips.
His teeth torment in taunting nips that make me clench in places I’m pretty sure no man has ever touched—and I desperately want him to.
Moaning, I run my fingers feverishly through his beard, letting my mouth go slack in total surrender, giving myself over to his tongue, every lick and tease that lays claim in the most obscene ways.
But not nearly as obscene as his hands skimming over my body, dragging at my clothes, gripping my flesh like he’s trying to shape me in the image of his darkest desires.
Everywhere, his touch leaves a burning handprint.
It’s like I’m already naked.
And when he angles his hips, when his broad body shoves my legs apart so I have to strain to fit him and I’m spread so open that I feel it as his hips ram mine and that hard straining spear of his cock presses against me...