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)
“Are you ready?” I ask her.
“For what?” she asks, a sharp edge to her voice.
“It’s showtime.”
“What do you mean?”
“We need to convince a lot of people in a very short amount of time that we only have eyes for each other.”
“You mean we have to start right now?”
“No time like the present.”
We stop outside her bedroom.
She lifts her long lashes to look up at me with fire in her big eyes, and I’m struck with an overwhelming urge to take her sweet face in my hands and kiss the hate from her lips. To ruin the fury on them.
“So how does this work?” she asks, crossing her arms.
“Stay close. Touch me. Be affectionate.” I try not to look at her slightly parted lips but fail. I’m like a fly to the Venus flytrap. “And look at me like you can’t wait to get me alone.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Exactly how convincing do I need to be?”
I lean closer. “Very convincing.”
I push open the bedroom door behind her, but when I reach past her, she hitches her breath with a soft gasp that has me thinking things I have no business thinking. Like throwing her over my shoulder and kicking the bedroom door closed behind us.
But making her writhe and moan on the bed until she cries out my name isn’t going to happen. Clear lines need to be drawn, for both our sakes.
“Do you expect me to kiss you?” she asks. And I hate the surge of longing I feel when I think about those pillowy lips on mine. Her tongue darts out to wet them, and it takes everything I’ve got to stop myself from crashing my mouth to hers. It’s been four years. Four goddamn years since I’ve felt a woman’s lips touch mine, and I’m this fucking close to ending the spell.
“If the moment calls for it,” I rasp. “Then yes, I do expect you to kiss me.”
She thinks for a moment, flames burning in her eyes but then she simply nods. “Fine. But that’s it. I draw the line at public displays of groping.”
My chuckle is humorless. “I wouldn’t dream of it, princess.”
“Good.”
“But let me reiterate. It must be realistic. Not some awkward fumble like a couple of virgin teenagers.”
Her eyebrow shoots up. “It sounds like you don’t think I can pull this off.”
“I don’t.”
Something flashes in her eyes.
More hate.
More scorn.
Then her body language suddenly changes and she melts her body against mine and flattens her hand against my chest.
She tilts her head back to gaze up at me with a dreamy expression on her beautiful face.
Her hand slides under my cut and around my waist and I stiffen because it’s been so long since I’ve felt the warmth of a woman’s hands on me.
My nerves rattle beneath my skin, and my jaw tightens. Being this close to her is fucking with me. I have the discipline of a fucking monk, but Belle tests it.
Like right now.
What I would give to give into my urges.
She takes my hand and guides it to her breast and—fuck, what the hell is she doing?
“See what you do to me, Beast,” she says breathlessly. “See how you make my heart race.” She flutters her lashes and then drags my hand lower, inching slowly toward the gap between her thighs. “See how much you make me want you—”
Fuck.
I pull my hand away. “You made your point.”
She smirks and takes a step back. The switch flicks, and she is cool and aloof again, her resentment for me burning bright in her eyes. “Just doing my bit to reassure you I am up to the task.”
I sharpen my gaze. “That kind of reassurance can be saved for when we’re in company. It’s not necessary when we are alone.”
She crosses her arms. “Don’t worry, bike gangster, I won’t have any trouble keeping my hands off you.”
I shoot her a dark look.
Her comment stings more than she could imagine.
“I’ll leave you to freshen up and will be back in half an hour so we can walk into the party together. Wear something nice. I asked Mya to lay out some options on the bed for you.”
And without another word, I walk away.
CHAPTER 15
BELLE
The moment I close the bedroom door behind me I sag against it. Damn him. He’s got me right where he wants me, and it makes me want to murder him a thousand times over.
Wear something nice.
His demand grinds my last gear. I might be stuck here but I’m not some biker barbie he can dress up and parade around.
I look at the three dresses draped on the bed. One is a tight black dress that doesn’t even make it to the middle of my thigh. The second is also black and is slightly longer but wouldn’t hide my underwear if I bent over. The third dress is silk and has a cute halter neck and a hem that reaches my knees. In my normal life—the one where I am not a prisoner of an annoying bike gangster—I would have died for a dress like this. It’s so soft and high quality and probably cost a bundle.