Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Nick was quiet when we got in, staring off into space before a sleepy-eyed Henrik showed him to his room.
“I’m sorry about this,” I told him when he returned downstairs.
Henrik shook his head. “It’s part of the service, miss. No trouble at all.”
“Do you think he looks okay?” I asked.
Henrik frowned. “He’s injured, miss.”
“I mean…his mood.” I waved my hands, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
There was that word again, sorry, the one Damien warned me to be careful with.
But if he cares that much, where is he?
I roll over in bed, sprawled out on the expensive sheets, the kiss replaying in my mind over and over.
Damien’s doing the right thing by not coming here, by leaving me alone.
Maybe he’s gone to stay someplace else. Maybe he knows it would be disrespectful doing anything before we’ve told Uncle Nick.
And even then, what am I thinking? Do I really believe I’m magically going to be able to become this sexy goddess between the sheets?
But it would be enough to see him again, to feel him again.
Outside, there’s a car.
I sit up, craning my head, then stop because I feel like a dork. Or like I’m cosplaying as a lemur or something. As if craning my head is going to help.
But I hear it, then the engine stops. Footsteps on gravel.
I know it’s silly how quickly I rush out of bed, springing up so that the sheets get all tangled around me. I almost trip as I walk over to the window.
It’s Damien, his shape in the semi-darkness, walking toward the door.
I return to bed, pulling the sheets up around me, wondering if he’s going to come in here.
Wanting, needing him to.
Even if I know it’s wrong with Nick in the house or before I’ve told Damien the truth. There’s too much unsettled.
But my body won’t stop screaming out for him, every nerve ablaze, every inch of my skin alight in anticipation. The house is quiet, except for the wind making its bones creak a little.
I hear a door open. Footsteps on the hardwood. A rustling…maybe he’s removing his jacket.
My toes are actually freaking curled, as I wish for him to come in here. And pray that he won’t.
Then I’ll tell him, have to, before we….
Before we what?
I don’t even know what I’m doing.
Sitting up, I suppress a gasp.
The door handle is turning.
What should I do, pretend to be asleep? Will he guess I’ve been waiting for him?
Then it’s too late.
My man fills the doorframe, his wide shoulders taking command. His muscles look like they’re ready to burst out of his shirt, every part of him bulging, ready.
Ready for me, for us. For the rest of our lives.
He takes a couple of steps, stares at me with those intense eyes, then closes the door behind him.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Damien
She sits up in bed, still wearing the clothes Henrik bought for her. But even with the fabric of the hoodie and the sweatpants, my eyes snap to her body and how her gorgeous shape is outlined.
Then I see her face.
The animal inside me calms—just a little.
She’s all wide-eyed, staring at me with something like an accusation in her glinting eyes.
“Where have you been?” she whispers.
I walk carefully across the room, knowing this is wrong. The very fact I make an effort to keep my footsteps quiet proves it’s wrong.
What bedroom is Nick in?
We shouldn’t be sneaking around like this, as though what we’re doing is wrong.
Pausing at the edge of the bed, I swallow a massive ball of tension. It’s my woman, her breasts tempting me, her lips even more. She’s got so much personality in her eyes as if she’s ready to do so much.
Together, always.
“I had to visit a few of our safe houses, consolidate our cash resources and a few weapons.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slump. “Okay then.”
“Why?” I ask, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She leans forward slightly, her lips parting, sending her perfume – or maybe it’s just her scent – washing toward me. She’s got her eyebrows raised, her lips promising to smile and threatening to frown at the same time.
“I thought you might be staying somewhere else.”
I reach over, my hand trembling more than a little. I feel like I’ve been waiting years for this moment when really we only met at the party. It was the first time we spoke, the first time I saw her as a woman, and now I can’t stop. Can’t stop obsessing. Needing.
She lets out a breath as I squeeze onto her shoulder, her hand darting up instinctively, touching mine.
“Is this wrong?” she whispers.
“It doesn’t feel wrong,” I growl.
I’m getting closer. I can’t stop it, can’t even try to fight the trajectory of this moment.
Now, here, which is all that seems to matter. It’s all I can think about.
Her, her, her.