Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
She completely ignores me, settling to dry her hair, leaving me nothing to do but watch her readying herself for work. I’ve no one to blame but myself. I know I could have handled this better. Yet here I am, still handcuffed to the fucking bed. Idiot.
When she’s done and looking even more stunning, she wanders over, and I sigh, marvelling at how lovely she is. She dips and kisses me, and I accept, jerking when I feel her lovely palm grasp my still aching arousal. So she’s clearly not done killing me softly. “Ava,” I say around her mouth, taking everything I can get. “I love you so fucking much.” Fuck changing my tact. She’s a cruel harlot. “But if you don’t undo these cuffs, I’m going to fucking strangle you.”
My words have no effect. She just smiles and kisses her way down to my cock. She licks and takes me deep. It’s amazing. It’s horrific. Oh Jesus. “Ava, please.” My dick is dropped in an instant, and she’s soon walking away. My hope soars when I see her pick up something off the chest of drawers. The key? Oh, thank God. Get me out of this hell.
My whole being relaxes when she unlocks a hand, the blood completely drained, leaving it limp and weak . . . and fucking painful. I won’t be able to do fuck all because my fucking hands won’t work. She puts the key on the table next to the bed, and I look to the small piece of silver on a frown, then to my defiant little temptress, who has never been so worthy of her title. “What are you doing?”
“Where’s your phone?” she asks.
My phone? What’s my phone got to do with anything? “Why?”
“You’ll need it. Where is it?”
“It’s in my suit jacket,” I say as she backs up to the pile of clothes on the floor. “Ava, just give me the key.” She’s not leaving me here, surely?
I watch in stunned silence, the crazy building again, not quite believing what’s happening. She retrieves my phone, places it just out of reach, and then walks out of the bedroom.
I’m silent for a few moments, struck dumb, at a loss for words. She left me? After the past two days, kicking my boots, searching for distraction in any form, this is bad, bad news. Just lying here, wondering, worrying where she is, who she’s seeing, what she’s doing. And now also stressing over whether my recently revealed age is going to be an issue. I know Ava. She makes issues out of non-issues. She’s a master at it. She’s gone, just like I knew she would. And I am not okay.
Breathe, Ward. But I feel so powerless. Do not lose your shit. The last time I felt so helpless, she found me. My scar. It’s burning. I close my eyes. Take deep breaths.
She doesn’t plunge the knife deeply enough. She doesn’t lunge and stab, she swipes and drags, and I’m powerless to stop her, completely paralyzed by the pure, unmistakable intent in her eyes. I’ve always thought she was unstable. Always questioned if there were issues that she needed help with. Even before our daughter died.
Now? Now she’s plain fucking scary, and I have gone out of my way to stay out of her way. I never anticipated she’d come to The Manor. And if she did, security was good enough to alert me of her presence before she actually found me. But I was otherwise engaged. Drunk. Balls deep in a woman.
Lost.
I look down at my naked form, blood gushing from the wound. I inhale and place a hand over it, my palm immediately soaked, slipping across my skin. I swallow. Cough. Blink. “Lauren?” I question, as if asking for a reason for this madness. I look up at her, finding her eyes rooted to my stomach, the knife still in her hand. I move back, and she glances up. And something in her eyes changes, a veil of remorse falling. “What have you done?” I whisper, falling to the couch, the absent pain now finding me.
The knife hits the floor. She flexes her hand, looking down at it, as if she’s checking it’s actually her hand. “I . . .” A step back.
“Do you want me dead, Lauren?” I grate, blood now pissing all over the couch. “Because you’re too late.”
“I’m sorry,” she blurts, her hands going to her head. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to die.”
“Then why the fuck did you stab me?” I hiss, my face screwing up, my stomach pumping from my heavy breathing, making my hand slip and slide.
“I need you to love me,” she screams, staggering back with the force. “Why can’t you love me? Even when I had your daughter, you couldn’t love me!” She rushes over and kneels before me, pressing her hand into my wound. “Oh my God.” She’s panicked, frantic. “Look what you made me do. Don’t die, Jesse. You can’t leave me. We only have each other.”