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)
Fuck, I wish she’d stop looking at me that way. It makes me want to do things I’ve got no business doing. She bites down on her lip. Her eyes heavy with lust, her pulse pounding in her neck. I feel her legs part, and I want to slide between them so badly I can barely think straight.
I force myself to move away from her and lean against the pillows. I need to put some distance between us because being this close is too tempting.
“So what do we do now?” she asks. And all I can think of is the hundred different things I want to do and all of them end with me inside her.
“We eat breakfast.”
I climb off the bed and pull on a T-shirt, then bring the breakfast tray of food to the bed.
“I was thinking of visiting my uncle today,” she says, before taking a mouthful of waffles.
I nod. I’m not worried about her trying to flee. I’ve secured her compliance.
She looks surprised. “Really?”
“Are you going to try and escape?”
“I think we both know it’s not in me or my uncle’s best interests if I do.”
“Then you are free to go.”
Her smile is big. And damn, why does it feel like there’s a tight knot in my chest whenever I see it?
She scoops up the last of the whipped cream on the waffles, and slowly sucks it from her spoon, and watching her sends all the blood from my brain to my cock.
I need to get out of this room before I do something stupid.
No point starting something I can’t finish.
No matter how fucking much I want to.
I need to tread careful with Belle.
Because whether she knows it or not, she could be my undoing. In so many ways.
She wasn’t afraid of me when she first saw me. And there was a part of me that hoped it was because somewhere in her heart she remembered me. Remembered who I was to her.
But now I know it’s because she is strong and feisty and not afraid to stand up for what she believes is right.
She will be a good old lady.
You have to be if you’re to survive being married to the club.
But there are some giant hurdles in our way. Using her uncle will only ensure her compliance for so long, and taming her into submission will be an impossibility. Her heart is too wild and too resilient for that. I will need to figure out a way to make her want to stay when the truth comes out.
And it will.
Annika will ensure it. Because she knows me all too well. She knows I’ve never had an interest in marrying since Guinevere destroyed my face and Jennifer shoved her engagement ring into the palm of my hand before fleeing the clubhouse. She knows me marrying someone after a whirlwind romance is out of character, and it’s made her suspicious.
Meaning, it’s only a matter of time before she figures out who Belle really is.
CHAPTER 20
BELLE
I was seconds away from coming.
The thought plagues me as I replay this morning in bed with Beast over and over in my head, bouncing between crushing embarrassment and waves of resentment toward him for shackling me to this situation.
And because of it, I am going to conveniently forget how much I liked the feel of the rigid outline of his cock brushing against my panties.
I close my eyes until the rush of heat passes and vow to not let it happen again.
I’m sitting at the dresser, and when I open my eyes again, I’m drawn to the view outside the bedroom window. It looks straight onto a tower, and if my bearings are correct then it’s the west tower.
You can go anywhere in the clubhouse. Everywhere except the west tower. It is forbidden.
Curiosity gets the better of me.
I want to see what’s in this forbidden tower.
What secret is so big that he keeps it under lock and key?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m already standing in front of the tall wooden door leading inside the west tower.
I check, but of course it’s locked.
But what Beast doesn’t know is that I am quite adept at lock breaking. Thanks to an absentminded uncle who used to forget our house keys all the time.
I pull a bobby pin from my hair and bend it into shape. Then, sliding it into the lock, I feel around for what I need. But this old lock is a hundred years old, and my flimsy hairpin is no match for it, and within seconds it breaks.
“Dammit,” I say, when it falls through to the other side. Now Beast is going to know I was trying to break in.
I quickly remove the other hair pin and try again. But it breaks too.
Okay, I have one last hair pin—