Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
I shrug. “Great. Fantastic. Why?”
His forehead bunches in a light frown. “You look…upset.”
And there it is—the perfect opening to tell him about my period. To explain why I’m feeling emotional and sad and need him to hold me even though he probably doesn’t want to hold me. I could be mature and show him it’s okay to be vulnerable together by leading by example.
Instead, I say in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Why would I be upset? When my business partner vanished just a few days after locking me in his tower with a warning not to venture too far outside the neighborhood or fuck the sexy lesbian at the front desk?”
His eyes narrow. “It was an unexpected emergency. I thought I explained that before I left.”
“You didn’t explain, you announced your departure and left at the crack of dawn.” My voice rises despite my best efforts to keep it level. “I was barely awake when you said goodbye.”
“But I said goodbye,” he says, still obnoxiously unruffled. “I thought that was what you wanted. Would you have preferred I left a note?”
“I would have preferred a real conversation, maybe over breakfast or something. Or you could have offered to take me with you.” The words are out before I can stop them, but hell, I’m on a roll, and it feels good to let it out. “You know, a joint decision, like normal people who are living together and fucking like rabbits and lying to one person’s dying mother together would do.”
He stills, his expression hardening. “That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair about it?” To my horror, tears start to well in my eyes. “The part where I said the painful thing, or the part where you get to run away, and I don’t? Where you get to pretend this isn’t way more—” I break off, swiping angrily at my cheeks, hating myself for getting so close to puking my heart out at his feet. “Never mind. Forget it. Sorry I said that thing about your mom. I’m just emotional because I got my period this morning.” I sniff and add with a bitter grin. “So, sadly we failed the first time around, and you’re going to have to keep dealing with me. At least you will if you still want to make a baby.”
The anger drains from his face, replaced by something that looks an awful lot like empathy.
But I know it’s not, and I refuse to let him play with my emotions like this.
“Don’t.” I hold up a hand, fingers spread wide. “Don’t pretend to care. I know you don’t. And I’m fine. I just need chocolate, which I just ate a shit ton of, and sleep, and—”
He crosses the space between us in two long strides, pulling me against his chest. “Stop talking.”
“Make me,” I challenge, but my voice breaks on a sob.
“I do care, brat,” he murmurs, his hand fisting in my hair near the nape of my neck. He draws my head back, demanding my submission in that way only he can. “Of course, I fucking care.” His kiss is fierce, almost desperate, stealing my breath and my anger all at once.
He tastes like coffee and mint and that salty-sexy-delicious Hunter taste that I’ve missed more than I want to admit.
“I care, and I want to keep trying,” he murmurs against my lips as he backs me across the room. “You’re all I could think about while I was gone. You and this tight little pussy I couldn’t wait to be inside again.”
“Really?” I ask, as my hands fist in his dress shirt, pulling him closer.
“I’m not a liar, Elaina.” His hands slide under my (his) tank top. “Or at least I try not to be. I’m an asshole, but not a liar.”
“That’s true,” I agree. “You are an asshole. And I missed you. A lot.”
“Get in the shower with me,” he says, nipping at my lower lip as he rolls my nipples in his talented fingers. “Let me make it up to you.”
“I’m a mess,” I warn him. “And not just emotionally. It’s the first day, and I don’t have a cute little flow to match my cute little pussy.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he says, pinching my nipples tighter, making me gasp and my inner walls swell around my tampon. “I still want to be balls deep in you. If you want my cock, it’s at your service, and your pleasure is going to come first.”
“It always does with you.” I cling to him as he lifts me into his arms, guiding my legs around his hips. “You’re not all bad.”
“Thank you,” he says. “I hope you still feel the same way after I make you wait for your first orgasm. You deserve a little punishment for meeting me at the door with a bad attitude and this sexy fucking top.”