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)
Besides his license, there’s also an assortment of bankcards and a Knights of St. Bon membership card. There’s a wad of cash too. About three hundred dollars in fifty dollar bills.
But nothing that really tells me much about him.
I’m about to put it back when something catches my eye. The corner of something poking out of one of the card holders.
I pull it out and unfold it. It’s a well-worn photograph, small and old and ravaged from being folded up for so long in his wallet. It’s of a little boy and a little girl. Both with blonde hair. About the same age. They’re sitting on a piece of playground equipment. She’s leaning over and kissing him on the cheek and he’s smiling at the camera.
A strange feeling settles over me. Other than Annika, Beast hasn’t talked about his family. Could this be his sister?
It could be Annika. But my gut tells me it’s not. Something doesn’t feel right about the photo, and I think it’s because I can tell Beast has suffered an immeasurable loss, and maybe this is it. What happened to the girl in the photograph? Is that why he’s so guarded? So…growly?
In the bathroom, the shower turns off, so I carefully refold the photo and return it to where it belongs. Tucking his wallet back into his cut pocket, I readjust it on the chair and scurry back to the bed.
Minutes later, Beast steps into the room drying off his long hair with a towel while another is wrapped around his hips.
And wow.
Just…wow.
I can’t help but run my gaze over him. More than once. And I’m not too pissed at him to admit that the sight of him wearing nothing but a towel is magnificent. I absorb it slowly. Golden skin covered in tattoos and gleaming with droplets of water. Thick slabs of muscle covering every inch of him. Long wet hair trailing past big shoulders and down his broad back. An eight-pack sparkling with shower water.
Not to mention that when he walks, the towel does nothing to hide the fact there is something very big swinging behind it.
Sweet baby Jesus.
He walks to the vintage dresser near one of the arch windows and opens one of the top drawers and removes a pair of boxer shorts. Then, like I’m not even in the room, he pulls them on under the towel before letting it slip to the floor.
When he turns around, I’m pretty sure my mouth drops open. I’m not completely sure because all the oxygen has left my brain, and all I am aware of is the sight of Beast in his underwear and how his boxer shorts cling to his skin and do nothing to hide what hangs so heavily between his legs.
Dear mother of God.
My neck and face flush, and my mouth salivates.
I have never seen anything like it before in my life.
Our eyes meet and I quickly look away, hating the sexy smirk on his lips.
So he’s got a big cock. Correction—a ginormous cock. So what?
I busy myself by pushing down the covers with my feet so I can slide under them, then pull them over my lap. But even then I can’t stop my gaze from straying back to him. I watch him walk toward the bed, my body tingling as I notice his muscles rippling beneath his inked skin. He lifts the covers and slides into bed beside me, and an immediate warmth radiates over to my side.
I clear my throat and look away and decide the only way to keep my mind off Beast and his giant cock is to torture him with a movie he’s going to hate. So I put on Beauty and the Beast. The sing along version. And hope it drives him a little bit insane when I start singing with it.
But fifteen minutes into the movie, I look over and his eyes are closed, and his big body is relaxed and settled deep into the mattress. His breathing is soft, and his long lashes fan his cheek.
Goddammit, I think I sang him to sleep.
CHAPTER 19
BEAST
The first thing I’m aware of is the infinite warmth wrapped around my body and the satiny feel of soft hair across my chest.
The second thing is my raging boner.
But it’s not a typical morning boner. Not one born out of hormones and sleep and a full bladder all working together to make me hard. No, this one is because I’m horny as fuck.
Which is not good.
Because I might have the commitment of a monk but having Belle curled against me like this has my body screaming for something more. She’s so soft and warm, and she smells like sunshine and spring flowers and…fuck.
My heart starts to pound, and my cock swells even harder. I need to get out of this fucking bed.