Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
He lifts up the axe again and brings it down on another log.
I want to look away. But a shirtless Beast swinging an axe and splintering the thick logs like they’re matchsticks is like drinking a tall glass of cold water on a hot day.
My gaze trails the length of his shirtless torso, across the thick slabs of pectoral muscles and down the deep crevices of his eight-pack, farther down to the deep V disappearing beneath his jeans.
I lick my lips.
Thick arms gleam with sweat as he brings the axe down on one log after another. He grunts as he pounds the steel blade of the axe into the wood and my mind starts to wander, and goosebumps spread across my skin when I imagine the sounds he makes when he pounds into—
Oh for fuck’s sake, Belle, get a grip. This man is keeping you prisoner and forcing you to marry him.
But even that isn’t enough to dampen the heat stirring in my core.
Geez, I really need to get laid.
I steal one last look at him. He’s about to swing the axe, but before he does, he stops and looks up at the window, and his gaze lands right on me.
Mortified I’ve been caught staring at him, I drop down to the floor and pray it opens up and sucks me down to a brand new hell—far, far away from this one.
The bedroom door opens, and Mya breezes in carrying a breakfast tray.
“Morning Belle…oh my goodness, what are you doing on the floor?”
I quickly scramble to my feet.
Stupid kidnapper.
Once I smell the coffee, my spirits instantly lift.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Mya says, sweeping across the room like Tinkerbell. “I didn’t know what you like so I brought you toast with jam, some waffles Mrs. V prepared especially for you, and a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Mrs. Who?”
“Mrs. V is the clubhouse cook. The best cook in the world if you ask me.” She places the tray on the bed in front of me and stands back with a big smile on her sweet face. “Are you feeling happier today?
Honestly, it’s hard to hate on someone who is pure sunshine, even if the circumstance warrants it.
Still, I have to remember that I am being held here against my will and at least try to show some resistance.
I look from the tray back to her. “Do you really think I can be bribed into submission with a tray of food when I’ve been kidnapped and held prisoner?”
Mya’s bright smile fades. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Her brow wrinkles and her big eyes fill with sadness and I feel like I’ve just run over a unicorn.
And just like that the fight goes out of me.
For now, at least.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to take it out on you.” I give her an apologetic smile because damn, hurting Mya feels rough. “If I’m honest, you had me at coffee.” I reach for the coffee pot and pour myself a big fat cup. Note to self: don’t crush Tinkerbell.
Relieved, Mya smiles, and everything feels right in the world again. No dead unicorns. No crushed Tinkerbell. Just me still being kidnapped.
“I brought you some clothes too,” Mya says as she untwists the carry bag hanging off her wrist. “You’re about the same size as me so I brought you some jeans and shirts. There’s brand new underwear in there too and some toiletries.”
“Thank you,” I say, accepting the bag and putting it beside me on the bed so I can start devouring Mrs. V’s waffles. She just might be the best cook in the world like Mya said. “My God, these waffles are divine.”
Giggling, Mya slides onto the edge of the bed and tucks one leg under the other. Today she’s wearing knee high black boots, tiny white shorts and a Led Zeppelin band shirt tied beneath her boobs. A diamond stud winks at me from her belly button ring. “Beast is coming to see you later today.”
“Later today? You mean I have to sit around and wait for his majesty to bestow me with his presence?”
Mya looks empathetic. “He’s the club president, there is a lot he has to take care of.”
“Then perhaps he shouldn’t have kidnapped me if he’s so busy.”
Although, maybe this is the chance for me to learn more about my enemy before our meeting.
“So tell me about him,” I say, shoveling in another mouthful of waffles and syrup.
“What do you want to know?”
What his weak points are. What buttons to push. The list is endless. “Why does he want a wife?”
Her eyes widen, and she looks around as if we’re being watched. “If a president is unwed at the time of being voted in then he needs to be married within six months.”
“You mean to tell me this Beast guy is serious about me marrying him?”