Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I wanted her.
I’d never wanted anything as much as I wanted her. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and I wanted to touch her. For weeks, I couldn’t stop jerking myself off thinking about the way she smiled at me. Wondering what it would feel like to have her beneath me. To be inside of her.
These sort of thoughts were doing me no good. I knew I couldn’t have her. I was a murderer. Even though it was the only thing I’d ever known, I’d learned after I left the compound that it wasn’t normal. And Crow explained that most women, they didn’t like it. We had to keep that part of our lives separate, for obvious reasons. But I didn’t know how to separate myself. I only knew how to paint the floor with blood and I could do that exceptionally well.
But I didn’t know how to speak with her. What to say. When I imagined letting her touch me, and the things I was supposed to do to her, I didn’t know what they were. There were some women at the compound. I remember Farrell told me they were whores and they were only there to bed the soldiers when they needed it. He said when I was sixteen, I’d bed one too. After I graduated training. But I never did. And I never wanted to.
But I couldn’t get the notion out of my head when I saw Sasha. Only before I could sort any of that out, Blaine started grabbing her like he had a right to. Touching her and asking her out. She brushed him off, but I knew he kept going back. Because I followed him. And I followed her too.
I couldn’t stop. At first, I just wanted to see where she lived. But then it wasn’t enough. I broke into her apartment. Went through her things. Watched her whenever she came to the club with Blaine.
I wanted her. And I hated that I couldn’t have her. Even when I saw Blaine hurting her, and I killed him, I knew I still couldn’t have her. I was too fucked up. She’d never want me. A murderer. A freak. A mobster. The only thing I knew how to do was kill.
But I took her anyway. And I’ve never stopped thinking about it since. The first time I sank inside of her, I embarrassed myself. I was out of control with how badly I needed her.
I didn’t like those feelings. So I kept away after that. But now, everything is changing. Sasha wants to leave. I don’t want her to go, but I have nothing to offer that would make her stay. I’m well aware she hates this life. I see it on her face every day. She wants to escape.
I should let her.
But I don’t want to.
When I walk into her apartment tonight and see the boxes packed up, it hits me hard. She really is going.
And now I know, I can’t let her.
I walk down the hall to her bedroom and find it empty. She isn’t here. My heart beats funny like the first time I saw her. Only it isn’t good this time. There’s nothing good about this feeling.
She’s leaving. And I can’t let her.
With that thought in mind, I do the one thing I despise more than anything. I sit down on her bed and try to work out the perfect lie. And when I spot the drawer across the room that has her knickers in it, I know exactly what it is.
I know how I’ll get her to stay.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sasha
When I arrive at the club the next night, I’m surprised to find the VIP room only has a few patrons. When Lachlan said they had an event, I was expecting a full house.
I don’t give it too much more thought because I’m sure the place will be filling up before too long. At Slainte, the meetings can happen at all hours of the night. It hasn’t been unusual for some of the dancers to be booked at times like four am on special occasions.
When I get to the dressing room, Jasmine is already wrinkling her nose in my direction. None of the other dancers have really liked me since Lachlan said I’m not to do lap dances anymore. I only ever did them for about a week before he put the kibosh on that without telling me why. Whatever his reasons, I was grateful. The other dancers however, didn’t take too kindly to my special treatment.
It’s not that the patrons in here are disgusting. They aren’t just your run of the mill average Joes with a beer belly and a wife and four kids waiting at home. No, these guys are either mafia or mafia associates. And for the most part, a lot of them are pretty decent to look at. And besides Donovan, I’ve never really had any of the clients step too far out of line with me.