Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“I see my card bought a lot of new things,” he says.
“Yes, thank you. Though, it was your sister, not me. I had no idea what half of this stuff is,” I reply, pointing at something on the cabinet that I’m pretty sure doesn’t have any functional use other than looking pretty. “You should test the mattress, though. That is beautiful and ridiculously comfortable.”
“You want me to get in your bed?”
“No. Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that,” I splutter, shaking my head. Fuck, why is everything I’m saying sounding like I’m trying to lead him on? Am I?
He steps closer to me, inches himself so close that I suck in a breath, and when I do, all the air I breathe is his.
“Are you sure?” he asks, then licks his lips.
Fuck.
He hates to be touched, but he seemed pretty into it last time, didn’t he?
No, stop thinking like that.
This cannot happen.
Again.
“Lena.”
“Hmmm?”
“Say my name.” I look up at him, confused. What does he mean? Then it clicks.
“Aleksandr.” I say his name, and his lips twitch before he moves on me as if snapping his restraint. His gloved hands reach for me, wrap around my waist, and pull me even closer to him.
Shit.
Our bodies are flush against one another, and unlike last time, I can’t sense him lock up. His movements fluid, my need a pounding demand for more.
I want more of this man.
“Last chance to run,” he says, a warning in his tone. I say nothing, just stare at his lips, remembering how he tasted last time. I swallow. “That’s my answer,” he says before his lips press softly to mine. Who knew this man could be soft in any way? His kisses are perfect. The way his mouth feels against mine before I part my lips and his tongue slides inside.
Perfection.
I don’t want to end this kiss. I’m too afraid if I move my hands on his body in any way, the kiss will stop.
So I surrender to him, because I would like this man to kiss me even on my sickest days because I have a feeling it would make me feel better. That’s the type of kisses this man gives. They’re reviving and life giving. An inferno of pure fucking need.
He’s taller than me, but I have on a pair of heels, so I only have to angle my head up slightly to kiss him more deeply. His tongue tangles with mine, and his hands on my waist pull me even closer, if that were possible, and I feel his hardness.
My breaths are shallow, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the tightness of my dress or if it’s just him.
“This fucking dress is a crime, Lena,” he murmurs, and his slight accent curls my toes. My own discipline snaps as I pull him in, feathering my hands through his hair. He shoves me against the kitchen counter, something falling to the floor in the process.
His lips trail to my neck, and I arch into him, so fucking starved. It’s not because I haven’t been touched in a year.
It’s because I haven’t been touched by this man my entire life.
“Alek.” My breaths are shaky. “Off. I want this dress off,” I say desperately. Because it’s too tight, too limiting to give myself to him.
He cocks a smile as he leans back and pulls out a pocketknife. My breath hitches as I stare at him.
“Do you trust me, Lena?” he asks, and it feels like I’m making a deal with the devil.
It’s not normal. But it’s Alek, and I can see it then, the monster barely hidden under the mask that everyone’s afraid of. But in his gaze, he’s burning for me.
I nod and watch his hand as he traces it between my legs, cutting the bottom of the dress. The material is so close to my skin, I think he might cut into my flesh because it’s so tightly wound around my body, until he puts the knife to the side and rips the dress from the bottom.
The dress is shredded in seconds, and he steps back, appraising me. He looks like a starved man as he stares at me. “Fucking perfect.”
And a flood of relief and warmth fills me.
He grabs my ass and lifts me, lips back on mine, his kisses more intense, which, when you think about it, suits him. But his touch is gentle as he traces my body, as if he’s afraid he’ll break me.
His gloved hands rest on my lower back, not moving, just holding me to him so I can’t escape. But then a phone rings, and I pull back. It’s not mine that’s ringing.
“Do you need to get that?” I ask. He shakes his head and pulls me back to him. This time, I move my hands to his chest. He moans into my mouth, and I move them lower, testing his boundaries.