Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Is it the medication? The hair-thin needles that have transformed me into a porcupine? Or maybe it’s simply the hypnotic way he’s rubbing my wrist, warming me deep within, dissolving the anxious knot in my stomach—a knot that formed when I started thinking about my brothers tracking us down, I realize with a start.
“Feeling any better?” Alexei asks softly, and I open my eyes, grateful for the interruption. I don’t want to think about what it means that the thought of being rescued triggered this migraine, when in the past, the trigger has always been the fear of belonging to him.
“Yes, much better,” I admit. “How long has it been?”
He smiles, and for once, the cynical curve of his lips holds nothing but warm pleasure. “About ten minutes. Too soon for the medication to have worked, so Vika’s skills must be on point. Literally.”
Or your touch is magic.
But I don’t say it. I can’t. Instead, I chuckle weakly at his pun and close my eyes, hoping he continues doing that wrist-rubbing thing—and he does. Before long, the low throb of the remaining headache quiets too, and I begin to feel sleepy.
“Forgot to mention… The pills may make you drowsy,” Alexei murmurs, moving his thumb down to massage my palm, and I sigh contentedly as I feel the needles being removed from my head.
Is Vika back? I didn’t even hear her come in. Maybe she picked up some ninja skills in China, along with the acupuncture. No, wait, that’s Japan…
I wake up to the feel of warm lips brushing over my eyelids.
Is this a dream? I want it to be a dream…
“Breakfast time, sleepyhead,” Alexei’s deep voice murmurs in my ears, and a bristly cheek rubs against my jaw as a soft, gentle kiss is placed on my temple.
Not a dream then. At least not any kind of dream I’ve had before. Usually, the dreams that involve Alexei are much darker… and infinitely more erotic. Reluctantly, I open my eyes and see my husband bending over me, a tender smile on his lips.
I blink, waiting for the curve of his mouth to take on its familiar cruel, sardonic edge, but the tenderness is still there, as is the warmth in his onyx eyes.
Unable to bear it, I look away and clear my throat. “Breakfast, you said?”
“Hmm-mm.” He presses another soft, sweet kiss to my forehead, making my heart beat erratically. “You’ve slept for about fourteen hours and skipped dinner, so I wanted to make sure you get some food in before we have a repeat of yesterday.” He cups my jaw, forcing my eyes to meet his. “How are you feeling? Any lingering headache, nausea, dizziness?”
“I… no.” I’m stunned that I’ve slept that long, but otherwise, I’m feeling perfectly fine. Maybe a bit hungry, even.
As if in response to that thought, my stomach lets out a loud growl.
Make that very hungry—and very embarrassed, especially once I see the grin on Alexei’s face.
I sit up, doing my best to ignore the flush that’s undoubtedly reddening my face. “Breakfast sounds good. Just let me get ready.”
“Okay.” He’s still smiling, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll see you up there in a few.”
Dropping another kiss on my forehead, he exits the room.
I rush through my morning routine with record speed—because I’m hungry, not because I’m eager to see Alexei in any way, shape, or form. As I blow-dry my hair, I again wonder why I’m bothering to look good for a man I don’t want to attract, but my hands operate on autopilot, applying lipstick and mascara, putting on a lacy bra-and-thong set, pulling out a sky-blue silk dress and a pair of flesh-toned high-heeled sandals from the closet.
When I emerge onto the deck, Alexei is standing by the railing on the starboard side, talking to Ruslan. Hearing my footsteps, Alexei turns to face me, and even though I saw him less than a half hour ago, my mouth goes dry as the impact of his presence slams into me.
He’s back to his usual dark clothes this morning—another black T-shirt and a pair of dark-washed jeans. With the breeze ruffling his black hair and the sun highlighting the intricate designs of the tattoos decorating his powerful arms, he looks like a modern-day pirate, a savage warlord of the seas.
I’m so focused on him that I’m only peripherally aware of his brother as the two of them come toward me. My heart thunders in my ribcage, and my face feels like it’s burning despite the thick layer of sunblock I applied underneath my makeup. For no reason at all, my mind flashes to what he did to me in bed yesterday—and to the fact that today, there’s no bargain of any kind to keep him from taking what he wants.
From doing anything he wants with me.