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I hold on to this urgent, excited feeling.
Warren and I get halfway down the hallway before he grows tired of our tripping and then he picks me up, for a moment he keeps me against a wall and continues his kisses and I do my best to keep up with him.
His hand goes to my blouse, trying to undo the buttons with one hand and I beat them away, taking the shirt and ripping it open.
Like a true harlot.
Warren growls—an actual, real, guttural growl that I only thought existed in romance novels—and leans his head forward, yanking down my bra cups until I’m hanging out. He takes a nipple into his mouth and bites.
I let out a little yelp and he glances at me, confirming that I’m okay. I don’t have words, so I just nod my head and he resumes what he’s doing.
“BEDROOM!” I yell out when I feel myself tense. He stops immediately and carries me in the direction of my office. “Other room, other room, other room.”
My insistent chant has him turning and he makes his way to my closed door; he braces us as he shoves it open.
Then strides confidently to the bed and tosses me on top. It’s dark and I want to be able to see him, so I reach to my nightstand and turn on the softest light I have.
When I see him hovering over me, I notice he’s already removed his shirt.
And holy shit, but I must have done something right in my past life, because this right here is heaven.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“I’m in love with you and your entire being.
Your hands and the way they hold mine.
Your eyes and the way they smile at mine.
Your lips and the way they fit with mine.
Everything about you.
And it’s all mine.”
-k.v.
Jane
This species—yes,species—in front of me is unlike anything I’ve ever seen in person. I’ve seen some fit guys, sure.
But Warren is in a whole other category.
He’s the book boyfriend I’ve read about a thousand times. He’s the nice guy, the ripped guy, the caring guy. The one that I never thought would exist in the real world.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Warren’s voice penetrates my inner thoughts and I send him a shy smile.
“Uh, nothing.” I shake my head, embarrassed.
“Not nothing.” Casually, like this is normal, his hands circle my wrists and he drags them above my head, holding me there.
“I just don’t know how you’re real.”
He raises a brow and leans over me. His hair falls around his shoulders and tickles my cheeks. “Is this real?” He very subtly lays himself across me until I can feel him. Every muscle, every crevice, soft and hard spots. Some much harder than others, granted.
“I certainly hope so,” I blurt, unashamed of the need pulsing through me.
“It is,” he replies, laying the softest of kisses across my lips. “It is real. This is real, Janie. You and me.”
