Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
I didn’t respond, didn’t have the strength to. Instead, I let the heat of the water and the warmth of his body wash over me, melting away the lingering tension. We stood like that for a while, the silence between us filled with unsaid things.
Eventually, he pulled away, reaching for the soap, and beginning to wash me with slow, deliberate movements. His hands never strayed far from me, tracing patterns across my skin as if he were claiming me all over again. I let him, my body moving on autopilot, too numb and too alive all at once.
Once we were clean, and the steam had wrapped us in its foggy embrace, he took a towel and began drying my hair, his touch lingering as he brushed it away from my face. "Would you like to watch a movie?" he asked, his voice as casual as if we were any normal couple after a long day.
I blinked at him in the mirror, still processing the question. "You… watch movies here?"
He paused and I realized he was holding back a laugh. "I use the internet too," he drawled, sarcasm thick in his tone.
The unexpected humor made me giggle, my face warming as I realized how out of place my question had been.
"A movie would be nice," I finally said, needing a distraction more than anything else.
He nodded, wrapping me in a plush robe that was waiting for me, its softness and warmth a perfect match for the temperature of the estate. Alexander led me to the lower level, where I had seen the theater room days ago, tucked away and so pristine that I had assumed it was just for decoration. But no, it wasn’t. He guided me to the oversized, ridiculously plush sofa and tucked me beneath a large throw blanket, placing a remote in my hand. "Pick something," he said softly.
I glanced at him as he moved to the far side of the room, already pulling out the shiny popcorn machine and preparing it for use.
The sound of kernels popping quickly followed, the aroma filling the room as he poured himself a drink while waiting for the popcorn to finish. He wasn’t in his usual suit, but a simple pair of black sweatpants.
His tattoo, the shaded Devil etched across the right side of his chest and down his arm, stood out in stark contrast against flawless, deep bronze skin. His dark hair was as usual styled impeccably with little effort, the thick strands pushed back.
The sight of him like this—relaxed, almost domestic—was hard to look away from. I found myself staring before quickly turning my attention to the screen in front of me, pretending to search for a movie. My eyes widened when I spotted a curated list under my name that included TV shows.
Home Alone.
Edward Scissorhands.
The Lost Boys.
Wayward Pines.
He had nearly all of my favorites. I should have been bothered. I should have been shocked that he had gone to such lengths to know this about me, to weave himself further into every aspect of my life.
I couldn’t pretend to be. Not after the job and house revelation. Alexander had been brutally honest about having watched me, learning all he could before taking me. I was curious, though.
“How did you get this list?”
"I make it my business to know everything about you." His voice was calm, as if this level of intrusion into my life was perfectly normal. "Your preferences, your habits, your likes, your dislikes… it’s all part of understanding you. Anticipating your needs."
He turned, watching me intently, gauging my reaction. "Besides," he added with a hint of amusement, "you had a Netflix account among other subscriptions, didn't you? That made things easier."
I swallowed, realizing just how deep his reach had been, even before I stepped foot on the Isle. The invasion of privacy should have made me furious, but instead, I felt something far more dangerous—a dark, twisted sense of intimacy.
I didn’t think there were too many things Alex wouldn’t do for me, within reason. Or secrets he wouldn’t find out.
“What else do you know about me?”
His smile widened, a gleam of satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "I know you hate the mornings, but you love the way the light comes through the curtains. I know your favorite color changes with your mood, and that you used to hum when you were nervous—until you taught yourself not to. I know the way you bite your lip when you’re trying to make a decision, and that you’ve always dreamed of seeing the world, even though you never thought you’d have the chance."
His gaze darkened, his voice lowering to a murmur. "I know you think about running... but you won’t. Not because you can’t—but because deep down, you don’t want to. You want this. Me. Even if you’re not ready to admit it to yourself."