Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
“Just a bastard?”
“What is wrong with you?” I demand.
“It’s called being born a Kingston.”
The SUV jolts to a sharp halt that shoots me backward. Eric catches me and pulls me to him and our faces end up close, his breath warm on my lips. “I got you, remember?”
“And I have you. That’s why I can’t let you do something you’ll regret.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to end this,” he says softly. “To protect you and if you hate me for it, hate me.”
“It’s almost like that’s what you want. Like you subconsciously don’t know how to be happy.”
The SUV starts moving again and then immediately halts. “Fucktard,” Savage growls. “Red light means stop.”
I push out of Eric’s arms and sit back against the seat, and he does the same. We don’t touch. We don’t talk. A sense of foreboding consuming me. I don’t know why we were even talking in front of Savage anyway, but obviously Eric not only trusts him, he approves of his plan.
There’s a loud honk and Savage growls again. “Shoot that finger, you bastard. We both know that if I get out of this Escalade and Green Beret’d your ass, you’d be sucking your thumb.”
Bastard.
I hate that word and it sits as heavy as a boulder in the air between me and Eric.
We start moving again and after five minutes of awkward silence, we pull to a stop in front of a building. The doors to the SUV open on all sides, as valets attend to our service and the cold air has me hugging myself. The minute I’m out of the vehicle, and under a canopy, standing next to a portable heater, Eric catches my shoulders and walks me to him.
“We fight too much,” he says softly, for my ears only.
I nod. “Yes, but I don’t think we’re done.”
His hand settles on my lower back, fingers intimately splayed, as he leans in close, his lips near my ear. “How about I lick your pussy until you forgive me?”
I gasp softly and just that easily I’m wet and clenching my thighs together, but for a smart man, his plan is not smart at all. I ease back and glare at him. “This, what you’re doing right now, is not going to work. I’m not going to be distracted.”
His lips twitch. “We’ll see.”
It’s right then that the doorman approaches Eric. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes. I need to have my car brought up to the top level.” He palms the man a large bill. “Keep it there for the next twenty-four hours.”
“I will make it so,” the man agrees, before walking away and Savage joins us. “Tips delivered. Keys handed off. Where do I get a good whiskey? I know you got the good stuff, Eric, and you owe me a bottle.”
“That I do,” Eric replies tightly, and tilts his head my direction. “I got drunk and let him beat me at pool. The final bet was a bottle of Macallan 25.”
It’s evident, they’re friends and after a life of being nothing but a bastard to his family, his life full of people who care about him. A part of me envies him this as I do not have that circle of my own. and yet, I’m also happy he escaped the Kingston curse, though I’m not certain he believes that’s true or possible. Eric has a mental fixation on the Kingston family I’m not sure he sees any more than he does his own fortune.
It’s in these black spots that this conflict with his father and family has led to an explosive situation, one that has already turned dangerous.
A gust of wind undoes me. I shiver and hug myself. “Can we go upstairs and you can both drink while I roast by the fireplace?”
Eric slides his arm around my shoulders. “Sorry, princess. I forgot we’re more used to the bitter New York cold than you are.” He turns us to the building door and we enter the lobby of elegant white tiles and red cushioned chairs to make our way to the elevators.
Savage punches the call button.
Once we’re inside a car, Eric punches in a code, draping his arm back around my shoulders and leaning me into him, no question to anyone around us that I’m his woman. And I like it, I do, but I cannot lose focus on where he is mentally right now, and how skewed by a bitter childhood his decision-making is at present.
The floors tick by and Savage hums, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” when Halloween hasn’t even arrived, and despite him looking like the hot, but mean Obviously he doesn’t just feel the sexual tension between me and Eric, he feels the tension, the war, that is barely contained. A guy who’d never even consider singing a Christmas carol. He’s trying to calm our energy, distract us from the words spoken in the SUV.