Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
But the man’s a specimen. It’s honestly not fair. It’s obscene, the way he looks without a shirt, and I’m salivating at the idea of seeing him in nothing at all.
I clear my throat, sitting up straight, pressing my breasts out. A little gratified thrill hits my belly when his eyes flick to my chest.
“First, I want you to swear we’ll get revenge for my sister,” I say firmly.
“Easy. Done.”
“I want revenge against Rustik and against my father.”
He hesitates. Head tilts to the side. “Your father?”
“It was his idea for Liliya to marry Rustik. Now he refuses to admit that Rustik’s the one who killed her. But worst of all, he threatened to murder me if I didn’t go along with what he wants. I want to hurt him for that.”
Liam nods slowly. His expression darkens. “You’re right. I want to hurt him for that, too.”
I shift myself again, surprised by his reaction. Does Liam actually give a shit about me? But no, this is all part of his game.
I adjust my legs, letting him look.
I should be ashamed of using my body like this, but I’m tired of playing nice. I’m not the type of person to roll over and do nothing. I have to take a little charge and fight back.
“Next, if we’re married, I want money.” I pause here, letting it sink in. “Lots of money.”
Might as well be smart about this if I’m selling myself anyway. I don’t feel good, asking for cash straight out like that, but I need to start making long-term plans.
His eyebrows raise. “As the wife of a Crowley, you’ll have whatever you want.”
“No, not only as your wife. I want a guarantee that if and when our marriage ends, you will provide for me for the rest of my life. If I do this, it’s one and done, and I never have to worry about anything again. Understand me?”
“That’s very smart,” he says, nodding slowly. “We can do that.”
“I want it in writing. I want a contract. I want it branded onto your lower back.”
“I’ll call my lawyer and my brander.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking, but that’s exactly what I want you to do. Well, minus the actual brand. We’ll stick to legally binding paper and avoid physical mutilation.”
“Your loss,” he says, releases the towel, and tosses it aside. The man’s a specimen, and he walks toward me, stalking like a lion on the prowl. I shiver, suddenly worried that I’m in way over my head, like a toddler lighting matches next to a can of gasoline. “We’ll agree on a reasonable monthly allowance in perpetuity, regardless of your marital status as a Crowley. That way, if and when we divorce, you won’t have to worry.”
“No. Lump sum.”
“You’ll waste it all on something foolish. Like a timeshare.”
“I’m not a beach girl.”
“There are mountain timeshares.”
“I want it straight up, in cash.”
He sighs, but gestures asset with one hand. “We’ll set up a trust then, but I won’t have you make stupid financial decisions.”
“When I’m not longer your wife, I can do whatever I damn well please with my money.”
“We’ll see. You might miss being mine at the end.”
I lick my lips, nodding slightly. He’s getting close, too close, and it forces me to back away from him, shimmying onto the bed.
He puts one knee up where my crotch was only seconds earlier.
“I want, um—” I suddenly can’t think straight, thinking about his thigh between my own. Thinking about wanting him, even after all this is over. Thinking about what he might do to make me feel that way.
“Yes?” He tilts his head.
My mouth waters as I stare at his shoulders. “I want safety. I have, uh, friends—”
“Rustik won’t hurt anyone you care about. You have my word. Give me a list of names, and I’ll provide protection for them.”
“Right.” I lick my lips again. “Uhm—”
“What else? I’ll give you anything you want, princess. Anything.” The emphasis on that last word is obscene. The implications make my core clench. I’m soaking wet and it’s embarrassing. He’s turning the tables on me so easily, it’s pathetic. “You seem distracted. What’s wrong?”
“You’re in bed with me.”
“Not quite.” He shifts forward, coming closer. Shirtless, dangerous. Beautiful. “Now I am.”
“Can you give me some space, please? You’re looking at me like I’m a prime rib.”
“I prefer lobster. I like to break the shells.”
“That’s just weird.”
His lips part in something resembling a smile. But it’s more like what a wolf might do, aping human behavior. “I have demands now, princess. My own conditions I expect you to obey.”
“Sorry, what now?” I shuffle back until I hit the headboard. He keeps coming. “We never said anything about obeying. This is a partnership.”
“You gave me rules to follow. Conditions to meet. I have my own needs.”
That word, needs. It drives a spike of desire between my legs. I can’t help but glance at his attractive face, his muscular body. I lick my lips again, afraid I might be drooling. “What do you want exactly?”