Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
“You. Are. Mine,” he growls. “And the sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be. This time next week you will be my wife. The type of life you want is up to you. You can play nice, and I will give you the world. The sun, the stars, and the motherfucking sky. Or you can make shit difficult, and I will take it all away, leaving you with nothing but darkness.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, and his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. And suddenly the look in his eyes makes sense. Lust. He’s turned on. And he’s going to kiss me. He’s testing me. Wanting to see if I’ll play nice.
I haven’t made my decision yet when his tongue traces my top lip, then my bottom one. My eyes close of their own accord, clearly making the choice for me, when a jolt of pain sears through me. My eyes pop open, shocked. It takes me a second to figure out what just happened.
The asshole bit me! I suck in my bottom lip and can taste the metallic liquid. He fucking bit me and drew blood! Kostas’s lips curl into a devious smile that pisses me off because I was actually going to let him kiss me.
“Real nice,” I hiss, trying to hide my embarrassment.
I attempt to push his arm out of my way so I can escape—to where, I have no idea—but he doesn’t budge. Instead, his chin dips down and he captures my bleeding lip with his mouth. My hands push against his chest, but it’s futile. He’s stronger. His sturdy yet surprisingly soft lips suck in my own, and he licks across my flesh. I stop pushing against him, frozen in place. Unsure of what to do. And then his lips descend on mine. His tongue pushes through my parted lips, and I can taste my blood mixed with something else…something minty.
And it’s as if my body has a mind of its own, because before I can give it any more thought, my lips are moving in sync with his. Every swipe of his tongue is controlled, deliberate. I’ve never felt so exposed. I’m fully clothed, and the only part of my body he’s touching is my mouth, yet I feel like he’s able to see all of me. Every hidden and private part of me.
Suddenly, it’s all too much. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be kissing him. He’s still wearing the blood of the man he just tortured and killed. But I can’t stop it. His mouth dominates mine, and I’m defenseless to end it. So, instead, I just let it happen.
When Kostas pulls back, and his eyes meet mine, they’re blazing with an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint. He doesn’t quite look mad. Maybe confused. That makes two of us…
He steps back and draws his bottom lip into his mouth as if he’s still tasting me. “I need to shower. Be ready at five thirty.” And with that, he turns on his heel and stalks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him—leaving me to wonder what the hell just happened, and if maybe Kostas was right. Maybe there was more to Proserpina’s feelings. Maybe she was scared of wanting him. Scared of what she felt for him. It would make sense. Because right now, even though I don’t want to admit it, I can completely relate to how Kostas described Proserpina. And I’ve never been more scared.
Ring…Ring…Ring…
My eyes pop open, and I glance around the room, taking in my surroundings. I’m in Kostas’s master bedroom, in his bed. He kissed me. And I might’ve enjoyed it. But then he walked away. Despite not wanting to do as he instructed, I was exhausted, and after fighting sleep for a few minutes, I ended up passing out.
“An Alex is calling you,” a deep voice says. I whip my head around to see Kostas standing next to the bed with my cell phone in his hand. I reach out to take it from him, remembering I never called Alex to let him know what my gate number would be, but Kostas pulls it back before I can grab it. “Who’s Alex?”
“Nobody,” I say before I can think about it.
Kostas kneels so he’s eye level with me, his features darkening and confirming what I noticed earlier: his eyes change according to his mood. “Did you already forget what happens when people lie to me?” he asks. “Let’s try this again. Who. Is. Alex?”
Sitting up, so I don’t feel at such a disadvantage, I tell him the truth. “He’s my boyfriend.”
I gauge Kostas’s features to see how he’s going to react to my truth. Outwardly, he gives nothing away. But his eyes—they’re all too telling in the way they blaze with anger, so hot, that with one strike, they could catch the room we’re in on fire.