Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
A slow smile steadies itself on my lips for Graham, the good guy. Victor might be a danger to my sanity, yet his protective capacity wasn’t lost on me while he held me in his arms. I’m not easily convinced, but Victor’s love for his brother becomes my conviction. God, I want that . . . with him.
Victor offers a dry, humorless laugh. “Had the best day of his life, he said. Then the little wanka broke his wrist. That’s the first and last time Graham got hurt on my watch.”
Guilt smolders in his eyes and something else.
Dark.
Sinister.
Something that speaks to my haunted soul. Something that, I suspect if I were having this discussion with anyone other than Victor, would make me succumb to the nightmare that’s plagued me for thirteen months. Although I shouldn’t put all my faith in man, in Victor, he grounds me, strengthens me.
So, I place my all into supporting him. Maybe seeing his brother with a broken wrist scarred Victor? Sympathetic, I murmur, “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t require an apology, Little One. Just a basic understanding that I must protect him. I know no other way.”
Awe, that’s the sweetest thing ever. “Okay,” I whisper.
While stroking the globe of my breast, Victor says, “We will meet for dinner tomorrow night.” I close my eyes for a moment, relishing his embrace. When I open them, he’s gone.
21
LUXURY
Day Nineteen
Aromatic seasonings perfume the Italian Bistro. The tomato sauce makes me want to lick the air. It must have been simmering for ages. As we’re escorted over the red-and-white checkered vinyl flooring, I wonder if Victor’s cunning ways led the doctor to research this place.
The host seats us at a leather U-shaped booth. Victor slides in next to me. His arm slips around my shoulders. My attempt to wriggle away is fruitless because of the intimidating doctor.
“Although I doubt anyone can see us, don’t try your luck, or I’m out.”
“Promise.” Victor crosses his fingers. A single, tiny tea light paints the man for what he is—my Achilles heel. If only I could add a pinch of sincerity or a dash of benevolence to him. A few minutes later, he’s ordered the house red. While I take a sip of the bitter wine, Victor’s fingers run delicately over the nape of my neck.
“Hey.”
“You look tense, Luxury.”
“Vic, I already told you . . .” My voice mellows out as my vertebrae click into place. A trembled groan escapes my lips. Victor kneads my shoulders. The magic evolves into a temptation I’m too helpless to deny. I moan as Victor’s hand disappears into the collar of my faux pearl-buttoned blouse, beneath the lace bra, over a peaked nipple, then squeezes.
I’m squeezing my thighs together to counteract pussy pulsations.
God, I don’t recall being so easy.
Victor releases me.
“I need more,” I gasp. Damn, Luxxie! He’s older, experienced. You need to play it cool. The tips of my fingers follow the wine stem in a nonchalant gesture. “A little more to drink.”
A vicious mask has fallen over his Adonis features as his entire rock-hard body turns toward me.
I’m the gerbil who shook her fat, fluffy ass in a snake’s face. Victor’s waiting for me to come clean and admit that my hunger is for him alone.
Fuck his certitude.
“More you shall have.” Victor grips my thigh, nudging upward beneath the hem of my burgundy skirt.
“Can I start you off with . . .”
I lurch at the feminine voice.
The server cocks a pretty brown head then proceeds in a monotone about calamari and stuffed mushrooms.
“Yes,” I reply to all the appetizers. Victor’s fingers skim the soft, taut skin of my inner thigh. He gives my thigh a few gentle slaps, so I narrow my eyes and open a little wider. Or perhaps he was waiting for me to respond to the server because she’s still here.
Victor clears his throat. “This one loves to order for us. Makes her feel . . . empowered.”
“Listen,” I whisper, “I know researchers can maybe make more in the OR doctors, but keep at it, and I will order the entire menu. You can be a dick—we can be dicks together.”
“Impossible,” he grits back.
“Should I?” The server hocks a thumb.
“No, no.” Victor takes on a cordial persona.
Where the fuck is Dr. Jekyll?
“What is the chef’s special for tonight?” he asks.
Victor smiles as his fingers dip inside my lace panties. He coils my silk curls. My legs, unfortunately, divide, allowing one of his thick fingers access to slide inside. Hips softly swirl, frantic to keep his beat.
My eyes roll back momentarily as an orgasm wracks through me. I cleave my tongue between my teeth to keep from screaming. Thank God it’s dark.
“Lux, are you listening?” he asks.
“I don’t mind giving you more time,” she tries.
“I www-would like,” I gulp, “the special.”
“And I’ll have,” Victor’s hand slips from my panties, and he taps a sneaky finger against his lips, “the involtini di pesce spada.”