Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Pink leather.
My eyes clung to her face.
“God, Zach.” Her lips broke into the biggest smile I’d seen. “The pants are butt-less.”
“A souvenir from Ollie’s tertiary education. He returned from Europe convinced that pants are a conspiracy against buttholes everywhere.”
Laughter spilled from her mouth. It hit me straight in the chest. Again. Like an adrenaline shot directly to the heart.
I felt it working. Beating. Pumping blood. Thrashing against my sternum.
Fuck, it was addictive.
She was addictive.
Her laughter subsided, and she stared at me behind long lashes. “Happy?”
“As close as I can be,” I admitted. “Point is…”
I raised my hand, using my thumb to brush away a lock of hair from her eye. Hair was dead cells. Not flesh. Easier for me to handle.
And yet, we both stopped breathing.
Our gazes clashed. Held. Succumbed to an unrelenting trance.
“You are mine now, Farrow. To protect, to corrupt, to ruin. I won’t let anyone treat you badly. Least of all Brett.”
A hard swallow traveled down her throat. “What do you want in return?”
Everything, I thought. I want everything you have to give and beyond. Every inch of you. Every smile. Every laugh. Every breath. Every touch.
For the first time in my life, I craved more than just existing.
I wanted to truly let myself feel.
I ignored her question. “You should move in here. Forget about staying at your house to protect the deed. Under my guard, you’ll have it all. The home. The company. The keepsakes—other than the pendant. I’ll make a nice coat for you out of Vera and your stepsisters’ skin, if you wish.”
Her breasts rose and fell, full and sensitive and begging to be touched. The peaks of her nipples dug through the cheap fabric of her uniform. “No, thank you.”
“I’ll buy the house off her if I must,” I clarified.
“I get it, Zach. You throw money at problems, and they go away. I’m not one of them. Buying my affection won’t work. You’ll have to earn it.”
I wanted to laugh.
I’d earned so much in so little time in my life. Of all challenges, surely this was the one I was fully equipped to handle.
“I’m sorry.” I brushed my thumb along her cheek, wiping away a drop of Brett’s blood. Her eyes glittered as our skin touched. A shiver raced down my spine, an involuntary reaction, like cringing at the sound of a fork being dragged over a plate. “I truly am.”
“For what?” She was barely breathing.
“For dragging you into my own personal hell.” I kept my thumb on her cheek. “You are going to fix me, Farrow… So I can become someone else’s.”
Iwriggled out of Zach’s touch, speed-walking out of his closet like my ass was on fire.
I’d never been anything other than brave, but listening to my hotter than Hades boss tell me he planned to screw my brains out so he could overcome some mysterious trauma and be with someone else was well above my paygrade.
What the hell?
I mean, seriously, what in the actual hell?
The worst part was, my upper thighs were sticky, dripping with need for him. My face flushed, sweltering with desire. My skin tight and tingly and begging to be touched.
Empty.
I felt empty, more than anything else.
Bracing a hand along the corridor wall, I struggled to walk straight. My stomach had dropped when the pad of his finger met my cheek, and that empty, warm feeling nestled in my core, begging to be unknotted.
I needed a release.
Now.
Dazed, I reached for the nearest door and shoved it open, stumbling inside. I pressed it shut, gluing my back to the cool wood and closing my eyes.
I tried to regulate my breaths.
The elegant tinge of Christian Dior candles and general cleanness prickled my nose.
Focus, Fae.
My eyelids fluttered open. I examined my surroundings, realizing I’d entered Zach’s art library.
Unlike the ones in his office, pieces of art adorned every inch of the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling maple shelves. Sculptures, paintings, ancient jewelry, and first editions.
Unfortunately, neither the Brancusi sculpture nor the first-edition Alice in Wonderland hardcover stopped my traitorous body from rioting.
My disloyal clit throbbed, demanding to be touched, tugged, and massaged.
I’d had enough.
You need to take care of this before you return to work.
I twisted the lock, jiggled it three times to double check, and shuffled to the far corner of the library, rushed by the slickness between my legs soaking my panties.
Maybe I should’ve felt bad about desecrating Zach’s antique library, but maybe he shouldn’t have indirectly called my pussy his cure.
The shelves rattled behind me as I pushed my back against it, toppling a handwritten, limited-edition textbook from the Renaissance.
I scooted down to the carpet, pulse whooshing between my ears. “One last chance to stop this madness, Fae.”
Too late.
My knees fell open of their own accord.
Tiny sprinkles of blood peppered my thighs like freckles. I probably should’ve been more concerned about the mess I’d abandoned with the Bretts.