Falling for the Beast (A Modern Fairy Tale Duet 2)

But he didn’t need to ask the question; she was already coming, already squeezing him tight and bathing him in her wetness. And then he was coming too, pushing back against her with heavy pulses of his cock and thick spurts of come deep inside.

Chapter Eleven

Erin

“Erin?”

She blinked once, twice, and the book came into view. It was large, with that old library smell she loved to breathe in. Even though she liked the smell of the book, she couldn’t say the same for its contents. They hadn’t managed to keep her awake—and she’d been reading out loud.

“Sorry,” she said, feeling sheepish. Bad enough that she would doze off while reading a book. Much worse to have been caught by Blake, who had read The Philosophy of History multiple times.

“I’m the one who should feel bad for boring you. I picked the book.”

“That’s only fair. I got to pick the last one.” Her choice had been the diary of novelist and eroticist Anais Nin. He’d read it to her while she’d attempted to bake homemade bread. It had turned them both on so much—explicit words in his deep voice, her hands plunging into soft dough—that they’d made love on the kitchen floor until the bread had burned.

So when they’d loaded the car for their trip, she’d offered to read him his choice while he drove.

He smiled faintly, his hands steady on the steering wheel. “Fair or not, I’m more than happy to have you pick our books from now on. I’ll save the Hegel and the Kant for my students.”

“Kant? I’m thinking you’re a bit of a sadist.”

“Only with books. And only in the classroom. When it’s just you and me, I only want to make you feel good.”

Her cheeks flushed, and judging by the amused expression on his face, he knew it too. If only there was a kitchen floor nearby. Unfortunately they were far away from Blake’s ranch-style home, with its seclusion and comfort. With every mile they drove, her stomach had tightened another notch. She’d hoped reading would distract her, but it had only put her to sleep.

Blake reached over and took the book from her lap. He put it in the back seat without taking his eyes off the road. Her gaze followed the lines of his muscular arms, his torso as it was exposed to her. How did he make even ordinary actions so sexy? She would catch him stroking the spine of a book or reaching for something on a high shelf, and her body would heat up.

“You should sleep,” he said gently. “We have another hour to go.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to trade off?”

“I’m sure. Go ahead and rest.”

“I’m not sure I can,” she admitted.

He glanced over, concern darkening his expression. She hadn’t said anything particularly revealing, but maybe he’d heard the tremor in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Erin. Baby.”

That was all it took to twist her up. Him saying her name. Him calling her the sweet endearment, the one he used when they were tangled up in bed together, so tight and twisted she wasn’t sure they could ever break apart—and she wouldn’t want them to. But this trip, this felt like breaking apart. His home was their cocoon, where their relationship had begun, where they’d fallen in lust and in love.

Of course they’d have to leave it sometime. They were engaged now. If anything, it was late in their relationship to be meeting his parents for the first time.

“I’m a little nervous,” she said on a soft breath.

“Ah, baby. I understand that. I do. But I’m going to be by your side the entire time.”

“I know,” she said, although she didn’t really. His parents came from old money. Heck, Blake came from money. And that was a foreign world to her. A scary one.

He cleared his throat. “Are you worried about it because of your mom?”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t do anything that would give away how even the thought of her mother made her feel. It would only make Blake feel guilty, and he didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But maybe his father had.

Years ago her mother had worked as a maid at Blake’s parents’ house. Then one day, she hadn’t worked there anymore. Erin was young, but she remembered her mother crying. She remembered the anxiety, the tension. The fear. At the time she hadn’t understood it fully. She still didn’t understand it fully. All she knew was that something bad happened in that house when her mother had left.

“I just wish she would talk to me about it,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She and her mother had always been close, but her mother had never opened up about that time, even when Erin was old enough to have understood anything. And when Erin had finally confessed who Blake’s parents were, her mother had seemed to shut down over the phone. At least after this visit they were going to visit her mother. Then she could see her in person and make sure everything was all right between them.