Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
When I asked Jeremy if he did it, he shrugged. “It must’ve happened unintentionally.”
I’m struggling to come to terms with that part of him, even though I know it would probably be impossible to stop him from being himself.
The parts that make up for it, though, are when he built me shelves in the cottage and continued to stuff them with mangas. Or when he listens to me talking nonstop about them without being bothered. Unless I actually call a character hot or cute, then he definitely starts questioning if maybe he should get rid of them.
Jealous of a fictional character, check.
At night, he covers me and only allows me to sleep either in the cocoon of his body or on his lap.
Like right now.
I stare up at him, at the hard ridges of his face, the slickness of his abs, and the ink that flexes with his muscles while he types on his phone. His other hand lies nonchalantly on my chest, nearly covering it all.
It’s past three in the morning. Even though I slept a few hours ago, I couldn’t help waking up again.
This time, it’s not because of sleep paralysis. In fact, I haven’t had any in the past few days.
I couldn’t sleep properly because of two things that have been bugging me. I think I just confirmed the most minor one.
“Do you not sleep?” I ask in a low voice.
Jeremy pulls the phone away from his face, throws it on the sofa, and lets his fingers get lost in my hair. The act has become so natural that I can’t help closing my eyes briefly in response to his touch.
“I do. Just not often and not too much.”
“Why not?”
“In my early teens, I avoided sleep because it brought nightmares of the less glamorous version of Mom, and it’s become a habit since then.”
I wrap my hand around the one on my chest, gently stroking the skin and the veins at the back. “I understand. I also preferred not to sleep when the sleep paralysis got to be too much. Whenever night fell, and the world was sleeping, the idea of closing my eyes and being assaulted by a replay of what happened brought me to tears. It terrified me.”
His fingers pause in my hair before resuming their rhythm. It’s a fraction of a second, but I feel the change and deduce his line of thinking.
“Jeremy, no.”
He raises a brow. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. I can see it in your eyes that you plan to torture Jonah some more in prison, maybe take it to the next level and kill him.”
“He doesn’t deserve death yet, and he won’t for the following, say, thirty years. He’ll wish for it, though, countless times a day.”
I wince, and he notices, because his eyes narrow. “Do you have an objection?”
“I just…find all of this hard to get used to. You already got all my and the other girls’ photos from Jonah and burned them. He’s already been locked up for his crimes. He’s lost his reputation and freedom. Shouldn’t that suffice?”
“No. He’ll have to lose his dignity and his mind, and even that won’t be enough payment for how he made you suffer. He stripped away your power, so I’m confiscating his in return. He’ll be trapped in that prison for eternity without being able to fight his way out. Just like he made you feel trapped in your own body.”
The dark contrast of his revenge chills me, and my lips quiver when I speak. “Not sure if I should be touched or scared.”
“Probably both.”
I smile. “You should’ve said touched.”
His fingers thread with mine, splaying out on my chest so that he’s feeling my heartbeat. “I’m not a nice man, Cecily. I won’t pretend otherwise, or I’d be doing you and myself a disservice. What I am, however, is someone who’ll slaughter your demons one by one until you’re finally free of them. I’ll touch your scars until you normalize them and can live with them, because they’re what makes you who you are.”
Holy…
I’m surprised my heart doesn’t spill out onto the ground, crawl at his feet, and vanish right in front of those ethereal eyes.
No one has ever told me this, and the fact that it’s coming from a harsh man like Jeremy makes it tenfold worse for my health.
“I thought you hated me,” I murmur in a vulnerable voice that I loathe to the core.
Why is he able to tug, shove, and break my heartstrings with mere words?
Jeremy draws circles in my hair, soothing, gentle circles that trigger a map of shivers on my skin. It’s even more intense when he’s staring down at me with a dark look. “You hated me, too.”
“You gave me no choice.”
“Hate is a feeling. In fact, it’s probably the strongest of them all. The first time we met in that club, something had your panties in a twist.”