Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“If anyone touches you again, you will tell me.”
“All right,” I say to get him off my back.
“Rest assured, he’ll be punished.”
My insides contract. In that case, Mateo will hate me even more, just like everyone in Bell’s household hate me because they’re afraid of me. Bell can’t bruise or mark me. He needs me blemish-free to act as Evie’s double. Instead, he punishes me through other people, knowing it’s worse for me if it’s my fault they suffer. Whippings, beatings, and pay cuts… he makes me witness everything.
I straighten, trying to create space between us, but Roman doesn’t retreat. Craning my neck to look up at his face, I ask, “Aren’t you supposed to play pool with your brother and cousin?”
“Later,” he says, watching me like a hungry predator.
“There’s lots of food left over. Can I send it to the basement?”
His gaze homes in on my mouth. “Is that why you prepared so much food? To feed them?”
“No,” I exclaim.
“Did you cook for me or them?”
“I told you why I did it.”
“Tell me again.”
I take a deep breath before blowing it out. “For you.”
“For me,” he echoes, his gaze still glued to my lips. “You have no idea how fucking sweet that sounds.”
I open my mouth to tell him something. I don’t know what. My brain refuses to function. Maybe I want to say that sweet isn’t a fitting word for our situation, but before I get out a sound, he crashes his mouth on mine. The act catches me off guard. Too late, I try to clamp my lips together. It’s no use. He’s already stolen inside, his tongue sweeping over mine with light but insistent strokes.
Strange things happen inside my body. Heat spreads to my core. My breasts turn heavy. I don’t kiss him back. It’s my first kiss, but it’s not the lack of experience that renders me immobile. It’s the arousal that tingles down my spine and turns my underwear damp.
His lips are warm and soft. In contrast, his stubble is rough, grazing my skin. He tastes like wine. Effortlessly, he manipulates my lips to follow his lead. He’s a skilled kisser, a dangerous kisser. I’m out of my depth.
Like when he made me come in his hand, my knees turn weak. He braces me with a palm on the small of my back, pressing me close enough to feel his hard-on against my stomach.
Despite who we are and where we are, my need explodes. Our circumstances vanish. I want to experience what he made me feel last night again. I want him to set me free.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I fist my fingers in his hair. “Roman.”
He growls from deep in his chest, doubling the onslaught on my mouth as he pushes his thigh between my legs. Shamelessly, I grind down on him, finding relief for the aching spot between my legs.
“Fuck, Evie,” he says, nipping my bottom lip.
The name stills me. It pulls me from the moment. What I’m doing crashes down on me. I’m dry humping my enemy, the man who wants to ruin me before returning me to Bell.
No. Not me. Evie.
Play the role.
I’m getting confused. I’m losing my sanity and my reason. The same question keeps on turning in my head. How far am I willing to take the game? Bell trained me for this. He made sure I understand what can happen. He never said it, but I get that, now. That’s not what’s stopping me. What’s giving me pause is a different question. Can I deceive Roman like this? Can I let him inside me knowing he believes I’m someone else?
What choice do I have?
He pulls away and asks in a hoarse voice, “What’s wrong? Am I moving too fast?”
As if we have time. As if Bell isn’t getting ready for war at this very moment. He now knows who has me. He’ll come, not for me, but to eliminate the threat on Evie.
I scrub my hands over my face. What am I thinking? The stress of the situation is getting the better of me. I’m ashamed of my behavior and I’m tired of being ashamed.
“I should do the dishes,” I say. “I haven’t gone outside. I’d like a walk in the garden before it gets dark.”
Wiping a hand over his mouth, he stares at me in disbelief. “You want to walk in the garden. Now?”
“Yes.”
“Are you playing me?” he asks with narrowed eyes.
“No,” I cry out. “What just happened… I don’t know why I did that.”
Exhaling a long breath, he nods. “Fine. The dishes can wait. Have your walk in the garden but get a jacket and put on shoes. We’ll talk about this later.”
Grabbing the opportunity of escape he’s granting me, I rush to the door, but the way in which he says, “Evie,” stops me.