Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
She steps toward me, raising her hand and glancing quickly at the door. Then she presses her hand against my chest and looks up into my eyes.
I look back down at her, remembering the taste of her mouth, lips, and heat.
“Thank you for this,” Lauren says. “It’s really nice of you.”
I reach up, touch her hand, and press it more firmly against my chest, so my heart beats right against her palm.
“This is how crazy you make me,” I tell her.
We stay like that until we hear somebody walking down the hallway, and then we separate. We watch each other the whole time they pass, our need evident in every single movement, every gesture, our beings trying to force us closer.
“After you,” I say. “Before you give me any savage ideas.”
“Maybe I want that,” she says, then walks ahead of me, moving her hips.
“Are you doing that on purpose?”
She looks over her shoulder. “Maybe. Do you…,” she pauses as if her nerves are going to win. “Like it?”
“Maybe I do,” I say fiercely.
She smiles, then a frown touches her lips.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she replies.
I step closer. “Tell me.”
“I never should’ve looked,” she says. “But I still want to know. I’ve got no right to ask, but us, Silas….”
She shudders, shaking her head. “I need to learn to keep my stupid mouth shut.”
“No,” I snap. “Never say that. Not with me. We….”
…were made for each other.
“Can talk,” I go on, stilted. “You don’t have to hide how you feel from me. Let’s go meet Giorgia, then I’ll explain. But I have to admit. It’ll be hard. I’ve never told anybody before.”
“Really?” she says.
“You’ll be the first,” I tell her.
What I don’t add is this story is so precious to me, so secret, I’ve never even told my best friend—her dad.
As I lead her through the studio, I wonder if I’ve got it in me to go back there, caged, terrified, to explain all the agony that made me who I am.
But the alternative is worse.
It would mean letting my woman assume there’s somebody else who could challenge her and even come close when that could never be the case.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Lauren
I attempt to calm my inner lust as I bring the needle to his back, trying to summon the focus which has helped me with my clients this past week.
It doesn’t help that my nerves are still alight from meeting Giorgia Bianchi.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he replies. “For the tattoo. And to tell you.”
He lowers his voice as he goes on, not reacting when the buzzing needle makes contact with his skin.
“That note you found…well, a while ago, I tried therapy.”
I’m not used to hearing Silas speak like this, almost as though he’s unsure, his tone stilted as he presses on.
“It was because of this recurring nightmare I’d been having. My therapist told me to write what I was thinking when I awoke on a piece of paper. One day I awoke and was already writing…her name, over and over.”
I focus on the tattoo, not letting myself think about him obsessing about another woman, wanting her.
“I stuffed it in that cupboard…that’s where I woke, in the kitchen.”
“When was this?” I ask.
“Two years ago. It’s not happened since. That’s one of the reasons I kept it. I stopped going to therapy, but that note seemed to help. I’d look at that, remember how I lost control, and then force myself to tough it out.”
“And that works?” I guide the needle over his skin.
“It works well enough,” he says. “For me.”
“But who is she?”
“This is the part I never talk about. No matter what happens between us, I want to know you’ll never tell anybody.”
The first part of his statement makes me want to argue because he’s making it sound like something bad could happen between him and me, as though we could be anything other than perfect for each other.
“I won’t,” I say.
He takes a breath, causing me to pause the needle, and raise it away from his heaving back muscles. He seems even tenser today, like this story is tightening his powerful body.
“My mom died in childbirth, so it was just my dad and me. My dad did his best to provide for me but fell in with the wrong crowd. He started working for the Cartel.”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur. “That must’ve been difficult.”
“It was what it was,” he says gruffly, but I can hear the emotion in there. “Anyway, my dad made some mistakes. He made the wrong enemies. One day, on the way to school, somebody sprung out and stuffed a bag over my head. I was eight.”
I keep the gun away from his flesh, not trusting myself with the emotion surging through me.
“That’s awful. Oh, Silas.”
“They took us across the border to some sort of drug processing plant, thinking we’d get them a good ransom. But they wouldn’t listen, and nobody gave a damn about my dad or me. And that’s where Vanessa found us. She was one of the bosses, and she was….”