Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
I can’t afford to believe the lie here.
Hook fully intends to use me as bait. The whole point of bait is that it gets plucked right before the trap springs shut. He cannot guarantee my safety, even if he is inclined to try. Letting the fucking and weird aftercare go to my head will only backfire.
I’m so goddamn tired. The kind of exhaustion that spans years, rather than days and months. Decades, even. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve been exhausted from the moment I drew my first breath and the woman who birthed me promptly gave me away.
As if sensing my mood, even in his sleep, Hook draws me closer and nuzzles my temple. The heat of him steals through my body, relaxing me muscle by muscle despite myself. I only intend to close my eyes for a moment, but the next time I open them, dawn steals across the sky overhead.
It’s beautiful, like a painting made just for me. I didn’t expect this kind of romantic thing from Hook, though he didn’t create this room with me in mind. He must have done it for the sheer joy of sleeping under the night sky. It’s frivolous, but I appreciate it all the more for it.
I roll over to find him on his back, his face and body still relaxed in sleep. He’s beautiful in the way a lightning storm is beautiful. Gorgeous and deadly and overwhelming. He’ll level me if I give him half a chance.
The smart thing to do after last night is put as much distance between us as possible. Hook isn’t offering me anything beyond revenge. Getting my emotions mixed up just because he happens to be a good Dom and seems invested in my pleasure and emotional well-being—at least where fucking is concerned—is a mistake. Once the threat Peter represents is eliminated, Hook will have no more use for me.
I don’t know how annulling a marriage works. We haven’t had sex by the most Catholic of definitions, which I’m pretty sure is a requirement. But even if an annulment isn’t an option, divorce always is. I’ve survived this much. A divorce is barely a speed bump.
It still leaves me feeling unsettled. Maybe it’s because divorce seems like a flavor of failure, and that’s not something I’ve ever had much peace with. Yes, that must be it. I can’t change my nature, even when it’s concerning a sham of a marriage.
Hook shifts, and the sheet slips lower on his waist. Dark hair dusts his bellybutton and trails south. I saw him in all his glory last night before, during, and after the shower, but that doesn’t stop me from tugging the sheet down, inch by inch.
Now that I have more time to study him, I notice faint scars. Small circular ones on his chest that I recognize as cigarette burns. A jagged scar on his thigh that must have been horrifically painful when it happened. My attention turns back to the burns. Those are from his father. I’d bet my last dollar on it. Hugh Hook had an unfortunate name and an even more unfortunate temper. He’d worked for Peter’s father and then for Peter when he took over the territory. I remember bloodshot eyes and a temper that warned me to keep my distance, though even the most foolhardy person in Peter’s territory wouldn’t touch me for fear of reprisal.
No, that privilege was Peter’s and Peter’s alone.
I shudder. Like Hook, I have my own scars from the time I spent helpless in this territory. Unlike him, mine are all internal. Scars on my very soul, wounds that still bleed at the most unexpected times.
I desperately don’t want to think about that. Not now. Not ever. In the dark of the night, sometimes I lie awake and fear creeps in. Fear that I’ll never be free of Peter. Fear that the abuse he dealt during those four years will continue to poison anything good for the rest of my life.
He took those years from me. I desperately don’t want him to take my future, too.
I close my eyes and take long, slow breaths. One after another, until the frantic circling of my thoughts eases, just a little. The fear isn’t gone. It’s never really gone. I’ve just learned to live with it.
I don’t examine my motivations too closely as I climb to my knees and shift to kneel between Hook’s legs. I want to do this, so I’m going to do this. As simple as that. I run my hands over his thighs. His breathing stays deep and even, but his cock twitches. I almost laugh. The man is nothing if not consistent.
“Hook.” He doesn’t move, so I brace my hands on his thighs and give him a squeeze. “Jameson.”
He opens those dark eyes still fogged with sleep. “Morning.”