Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Which you refuse to believe, Luxxie. A gut feeling. You just verbally sparred with Vic, so stick to your guns, girl.
A flood of pressure burns my eyes, and I bite back the notion of betrayal, shoving the diary into my purse.
I’m not ready to taunt myself with what it implies. Even more, I don’t want to know why Uncle Red chose to leave it with me.
I look out the jet window. It suddenly hits me. I’m going to London. What. The. Actual. Fuck.
I left Dad behind with one of the best nurses that Manhattan has to offer and the security detail. Everything is taken care of, and I should be elated by my spontaneous vacation, but worry has settled in my bones.
“Luxury, would you like anything?” Burt’s voice slowly leaks into my thoughts.
“No, thank you, Burt. Where I’m from, we serve the people who can be our grannies and pops.” I give a weak smile. I’m happy to see an old friend, well, at least a familiar face.
With a friendly smile, he heads toward the cockpit to accompany the pilot and give us privacy.
I look over, and Victor’s large frame dominates his chair. His fingers steeple together in a brooding manner. We didn’t say a thing to each other while I packed. My heart was ready to convict him for accusing my mother of adultery. On the ride to the private airstrip, he said a few choice words of assurance.
Now, Victor’s a silent force. Though I've only known him for a short period, he has become my rock.
He glances my way. The hard glare becomes thoughtful. Before Victor can ask about my well-being, I murmur, “I'm okay.”
He beckons me over.
A sigh weaves through my lungs as I get up and step across the aisle. I climb onto his lap. Victor’s arms wrap around me. Firm lips press against my forehead. I chuckle.
“What's that for?” he asks.
“You better watch out.” I smile meekly. “Forehead kisses can be lethal.” A token between two people in love.
“How so?”
From the instant Victor touches me, all worry about Dad fades away. I’m a giddy ball of love. “Kisses on the mouth, and I don’t mean just a man and a woman, I mean the kiss of a true love’s lips,” I reply in between kissing his mouth, “now, those kisses are an act of desire.” I sigh as my mouth continues to torment his. “Anyone can kiss. Lovers. Friends. People kiss during one-night stands.”
“We're past that part.” Victor places a claiming hand on my face, sending a scorching ball of lava into my soul with the way he deepens the kiss.
“Yes, we are.” I brush the black hair from his forehead and place my lips on his impeccably tanned skin. “Now, these types of kisses. Mother to child. Husband to wife.”
Titanium shifts beneath me, coiling inward. Victor’s tense. But I can’t stop. My heart will forever plead for this man. How long will I strive for his love? At this moment, I don’t know, nor do I care. So, I finish, saying, “These are kisses for love.” It breaks my heart to add, “So, don’t kiss me on the forehead if you don’t mean it.”
A smile finally latches itself to his addictive lips. “Little One, you must not forget that I can kiss your entire body, however many times I want, wherever I want.”
We stare at each other. My light brown eyes connect with an aqua storm, darkened in desire. “Have you ever seen that diary before today?” Victor asks abruptly.
My heart lurches. Wow, really? A change of subject. I shouldn’t be surprised. Less than three weeks into our chaotic and highly aggressive relationship, I professed love. He has not returned the sentiment.
I clear my throat. “I believe I’ve seen it. Years ago.”
“Have you considered reading it?”
“Not sure.” I run a vulnerable palm over my opposite forearm. “That’s a violation of her privacy. She can’t speak for herself, such as saying why Uncle Red had the journal to begin with.”
My eyes test him to suggest they were intimate.
“Alright.” Victor rubs my shoulder. All signs show him being attuned to my needs yet refusing to love me. “There’s a conversation we must have before arriving in England.”
“Ahhh, sounds serious, Victor. Stick a pin in that.” My head dips, and I groan as he kneads the tension away. “Let’s ride on those red, double-decker buses. Oh, also, let’s take photos outside of Buckingham Palace. I want to eat bangers and mash―”
“What do you know about bangers—”
I bump him softly with my shoulder. “Smut has its values. I read about a British Royal who—”
“What did he do?”
“Excuse me. The heroine was the royal.”
“And she snuck off for a few rendezvous, yeah?”
“A three-book series worth until she convinced the Queen and King to allow her to marry the guy.”
He laughs.