Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“Do I look like I’m confused?” She pops a piece of bacon into her mouth, staring at me while she chews. I don’t know if it’s sexy or unnerving. Both?
“You know all the reasons that’s a terrible idea.”
“Why does it have to be?” She’s so casual about it. That alone makes me wonder if she understands the enormity of what she’s talking about.
“Mia, come on. We’re talking about my job here. We’re talking about your father castrating me if he ever found out. And he’d be furious with you, too. Are you really willing to take that risk?”
She makes a big deal about looking around, her head on a swivel, her eyes landing here and there. “Doesn’t look like there’s anybody here with us,” she finally announces. “So, how would anybody know?”
I close my eyes, gritting my teeth, willing myself to be the smart one here. One of us has to be. “Mia, I know you’re a virgin. I know you’re probably in a hurry to change that.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she spits, disgusted. “I know what I want. I’ve known for a long time. Pretend all you want that you don’t want me too, but we both know that isn’t true. I respect you wanting to be true to what my dad wants. I do. But he never needs to know.”
The little tease runs her foot up my leg. “Does he? It can be between you and me. Why deny ourselves what we both want? Are you afraid you can’t handle it?”
“Don’t play games,” I warn, though I don’t bother pushing her foot away, either. She’s winning me over, let’s put it that way. How can I help it? My dick is doing the thinking for me, and right now, it’s all in. No reservations.
Which means I have to call upon what little blood is still left in my brain. “I’m serious, Mia,” I warn. “This is dangerous shit you’re talking about.”
“I know it can be.” She goes back to her food, scooping some eggs onto a piece of toast. “But it doesn’t have to be.”
“You can tell yourself that all you want—”
“You know what?” She drops the rest of the toast onto the plate, swiveling around on the stool until she’s facing me head-on. “Let’s get this straight. I’m not some bubbleheaded, naïve little thing, no matter what my father thinks about me.”
“I never said you were.”
“Then why do you insist on telling me what I want? I know what I want. I know what’s right for me. And you can’t tell me it’s been easy, the two of us living together all these weeks, both of us pretending we don’t want what we so obviously do. Have you forgotten what it was like that night in my room? Will you ever be able to forget what it felt like to kiss me? Because I know I’ll never forget it, and I don’t want to. It’s insane to think we could walk around and pretend it never happened!”
She has a point. And that’s not just my dick talking. Most of the misery of the past two months has come from denying ourselves. I know in my case, my cravings for her can only be channeled into picking fights with her. Being jealous. Petty. That’s not how I want to be.
I also don’t want to be dead, which I’m afraid I would be if word of this ever got out.
“Zeke. Look at me.” I lift my gaze to find her smiling. “Let’s stop all this. Let’s stop kidding ourselves. And let’s stop believing my father would have any way of knowing about us being together. I know we can both be discreet adults. Right?”
She’s right, you know she’s right, just tell her so. I take a deep breath, like I can will myself into believing something I don’t. I can make myself believe there’s any way we can get out of this fucked up situation with her still being a virgin in the end.
She slides off the stool, standing between my legs. “You know what I want?” Her palm makes contact with my straining cock. “I want to know how to make you feel good. I want you to teach me to do to you what you did to me. It doesn’t seem fair, with me having all the fun. Teach me. Show me what to do. I want to learn so much.” She massages me in slow circles, and I have to wonder how often she’s thought of this.
I catch her wrist and hold it still. “You’re playing with fire,” I warn.
“You don’t have to tell me that,” she whispers, her lip disappearing under her teeth. So fucking sexy. Innocence and sensuality all wrapped up in one perfect little package.
And she’s handing herself to me on a platter. How insane am I to think I can fight against this?