Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
I know this woman is one of a kind. I know there isn't another who will walk the earth who pulls such dedication and compassion from me.
"We'll go slow," she says.
"As slow as you want," I whisper.
I stay steady when she leans forward, her lips pressing to mine.
When I feel the brush of her hand down the front of my jeans, I groan with need. She uses the opportunity to sweep her tongue across mine, and only for a fraction of a second, I doubt my ability to stop if she did anything less than demand it.
I test the waters by placing my hand on her hip, swiping my tongue against hers when she doesn't flinch. My other hand lifts, my palm resting softly on her neck, fingers curling slightly but not so tight that she couldn't take a simple step back to break the connection.
She pulls her face back, my body taking a half second too long to realize that she's pumping the brakes, but I don't have time to feel like an idiot for kissing the air before she speaks.
"Sorry," she says, the word more than a little breathless.
"It's okay. I told you we could stop-"
"We should probably shut the door," she says, looking out of the bathroom toward my bedroom area.
"Yeah," I say as I swallow. "That's probably a good idea."
When she takes another step back, I walk around her, leaving the bathroom and closing the bedroom door. When I turn around, she's standing in the middle of the room.
"You're sure?" I ask as I turn the lock on the door.
She nods. "I'm sure."
"I'll be easy and gentle," I promise. "We can stop at any time."
I hold out my hand, but she hesitates to reach for it.
"We don't-"
"I want you to be exactly who you are when you make love."
I don't argue with her about the words "make love" because it's just semantics.
I shake my head. "I don't know if that's going to work for you."
She darts her eyes away.
"This only works if we're honest with each other. I need you not to be afraid to speak your mind."
She pulls her eyes back to me, but I can tell that it seems like a struggle to her. She doesn't exactly have a history of having the freedom to speak her mind without retaliation, where men are concerned.
"Is all of this talk ruining the moment for you?"
I shake my head. "Not at all. I think it's best if we know what the expectations are going to be before we get started. Don't you?"
"I've never had such an open conversation about sex before."
"If you can't talk about what you need during sex, then your request that I be exactly who I am during sex isn't going to land the way you want it to," I tell her.
She rolls her lips between her teeth, as if she has to clamp them closed so she doesn't say something wrong.
"Talk to me," I urge, taking a seat at the end of my bed because it might make her feel a little less intimidated.
"Can you explain what you're like during sex that you might think I have a problem with?"
I grin at her, grateful that there's a lightness and maybe a hint of humor in the way she asks the question.
"Are you wanting to tie me up or pull my hair or something?"
I grin at the nervous way she looks down at her feet when she asks the question.
She's getting more comfortable with me, and I think that's necessary for her to talk about her expectations.
"I'm not going to tie you up, Juliet."
"Mmm," she groans in a way that makes the sound land right in my lap.
"Do you want to be tied up?" I ask, laying out my own expectations before she can answer. "I'm not into that."
"What?" she asks, her eyes snapping up to mine. "No, I don't want that."
"That little sound you just made makes me believe differently."
"Sound?"
"A moan of sorts," I clarify.
The pink in her cheeks deepens.
"I like the way my name sounds on your lips," she confesses. "I don't want to be tied up."
"Hair pulling?" I ask.
"Not in a violent, aggressive way," she answers, her eyes darting to mine before darting away just as quickly.
"Noted," I tell her, lifting my hand and curling a finger at her, urging her to take a step closer. "What else?"
"I would." She begins taking a few steps in my direction. "I would—"
Her words pause when I place my hands on her hips.
She looks down at me, her pupils wide, and a need that can't be mistaken on her beautiful face.
"You would...?"
"I would like to orgasm," she says quickly, as she straightens her back as if she feels like she might have to explain her reasoning.
"That's a given, Juliet," I whisper, my thumbs making circles on her shirt until it lifts high enough for me to make skin-on-skin contact.