Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
A little before five, I pack away my drawings and gather my pencils. Like in many houses, a flap in the hallway ceiling gives access to the hot water tank. I find a short ladder in the garage that I use to reach the flap. Opening it a crack, I hide my drawings and money there. With my secrets secure, I wash my hands to remove the paint stains and apply a little makeup to hide the paleness of my cheeks.
Just as I grab my bag to go to work, the front door opens, and Leon walks inside. It’s his house, but as I’m used to him always working late, his presence takes me by surprise.
He gives me a quick once-over on his way to the cloak room. “Going somewhere?” he asks, removing his jacket and throwing it onto a chair.
“To work.”
He walks with long strides down the hallway. “You’re not working night shifts any longer.”
I follow him to the kitchen. “What are you talking about?”
“I want you home at night,” he says, taking a beer from the fridge.
“What about my job?” I exclaim.
“I don’t want you to work in your stepfather’s company.” He unscrews the cap and watches me as he takes a sip before adding with a wry smile, “For obvious reasons.”
The implication heats my cheeks. He doesn’t want the risk of having me near his work again.
He leans on the counter and crosses his ankles. “Anyway, you don’t need money. I have more than enough to take care of you.”
I steel my spine. “I don’t want you to pay my way.”
“That’s what husbands do.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“No?” Putting the beer aside, he straightens before walking slowly to me. “How does it work?”
It’s tempting to back away, but I stand my ground. “You’re angry with me.”
He stops close to me, invading my space. “That’s a light way of putting it.”
“I get that. I deserve that. I understand that you want to punish me, but you can’t tell me I’m not allowed to have a job.”
“I never said you couldn’t have a job.” He leans closer, putting a hand on either side of my body on the table. “Maybe now is a good time to tell me about those ambitions you mentioned.”
“Why?” I bend backward, putting distance between us. “So you can make sure I never have a job I love?”
He clicks his tongue. “You have a lot of trust issues, but seeing how we’re starting out, who can blame you?”
The warped game he’s playing has only started, and I’m already exhausted. “Are you going to hold it against me forever?”
“If you’re asking if I’ll forgive you, I’m not the kind of man who forgets.”
“I see.” I bite my lip, considering where this leaves us. “If you won’t accept my apology, there’s no point in offering it.” And as I can never tell him why I did it, there will be no excuses either.
“Believe it or not, Violet, I don’t want you to be unhappy.”
I do find that hard to believe. “This is a bad idea.”
He closes more distance, aiming for my mouth. “This is a perfect idea.”
Turning my face to the side, I say, “We’ll never work. The marriage won’t be real.”
“Oh, it’ll be real.” He grips my chin and brings my gaze back to his. “We’ll consummate this marriage tonight, even before I put a ring on your finger.” He leans closer still, whispering the words over my lips. “And you’re going to love every minute.”
Arrogant bastard.
I push on his chest, fighting for my space, but he doesn’t ease up. He takes the plunge, kissing me so hard the brutality of it leaves me dizzy. Like a soldier who’s well-trained in battle, he uses the moment of my disorientation to disarm me further by slipping a hand under my T-shirt. His palm is hot and his callused skin abrasive as he rubs my nipple through the lace of my bra. He’s rough, stealing my control and my reason with a kiss that lacks gentleness but not fire. I gasp when he rolls my nipple, giving him deeper access to my mouth.
He plunders my lips with exactly enough violence to turn me wet, already knowing my body too well. One night in a parking lot told him more about me than what my ex-boyfriend had learned in the six months we were together. He kneads my breast, closing his fingers around the curve and squeezing while he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. The nip of his teeth sends sparks to my core. No feelings are involved in the exchange. It’s pure adrenaline-filled lust. I’m lucid enough to know he’s not as turned on as I am. His focus is aimed at me. His actions are designed to seduce and please, his goal to learn what triggers me. He’s mechanical to the point of treating me like a sexual subject on an examination table, discovering where and how to touch me, and weirdly enough, that’s what sends me past the point of no return.