Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I took the stairs to the next level, my feet tired in the heels.
When I made it to the second floor, I approached my suite door and went inside, relieved I wouldn’t have to speak to Axel tonight. Not sure how I would keep a straight face after the heated conversation I’d had with my father. I stepped into my bedroom and immediately noticed something had changed.
All my stuff was gone.
I opened the closet—and it was empty.
The bathroom counter was vacant of my brushes and makeup.
Everything had been taken away and cleaned—as if I never lived here.
I marched down the hallway to his bedroom and let myself inside. “Where’s my stuff?” I spoke before I even saw him. I shut the door and found him in the living room. There was a glass of scotch on the coffee and a cigar between his fingertips. He was in just his gray sweatpants and nothing else. “Axel?”
He smashed the cigar into the black bowl and extinguished it before he rose to his full height, a living skyscraper. He walked toward me, muscular arms hanging by his sides. “You’re living here now.”
My eyebrows rose up my face. “That’s not what we agreed to—”
“I’ve been patient with you,” he said calmly. “Very fucking patient. But no more.”
“And you just get to decide this?” I asked incredulously. “That’s not how it works—”
“That is how it works,” he snapped. “Because you told me you would try, and sleeping down the fucking hall is not trying.” His eyes were beautiful on most occasions, but they were livid now. “We sleep together. Period.”
“If you’d just asked me, I would have considered it—”
“No, you wouldn’t. You needed a push—and I pushed you.”
“We had a nice night last night, and now it’s ruined—”
“I’m not sleeping without you.” He raised his voice now, not quite yelling, but the increase in decibel was still terrifying. “I can’t go back now. I want you in my arms, every fucking night, until we die. End of story.”
I was so angry I could scream, but the words didn’t come.
“I know you liked it.”
I turned away, unable to look at his face anymore. I approached the window, seeing the rain on the asphalt reflect the city lights.
When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “Baby.”
I remained at the window, looking into the cold night.
His footsteps sounded, growing louder the closer he approached.
My heart started to race.
Then his chest pressed into my back, and his muscular arms wrapped around me, shielding me from the cold that came in through the windowpane. His head dipped to my neck, and his hands gripped my arms, locking me into his embrace. The thin strap of my dress barely covered my shoulder, so he was able to press a kiss directly to the cold skin.
This was the moment I was supposed to buck him off or storm away, but cocooned against his chest was the most comfortable I’d ever been. My skin hummed to life at his proximity, and I melted into a pile of mush at his feet. He still had that effect on me, inexplicably, even after what he did.
His lips moved near my ear. “Try with me.”
“I am.”
“Try harder.” His arms pulled on me, forcing me to relax fully against him, to trust that his body would support mine. His mouth moved to my shoulder and he kissed me again, squeezed me to him so hard I could feel his heartbeat against my back. “How was dinner?”
A shitshow. “Fine.”
“What did you order?”
“The Bolognese,”
He kissed my shoulder again, embracing me with warmth and affection so potent it made me slide further under his spell.
“How was your night?”
“I had a steak and watched the game.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Thought about you the whole time.”
“What did you think about?” I didn’t know what possessed me to ask such a risky question, but it came tumbling out. Whenever he was this close to me, I couldn’t think straight.
“You really want to know?” He kissed my shoulder again, and I could feel the smile on his lips. “I thought about making you my wife—officially.” He kissed my shoulder. “Making you come as you call me your husband.”
A rush of heat flushed through me instantaneously, making my neck hot, making my fingertips numb.
“That’s what I always think about when I’m alone.”
All my toiletries were on his bathroom counter. There were two sinks and plenty of room on either side, so I left my things where they were, washed my face, and removed my makeup. I did my regular evening routine, putting on my hydrator and eye cream, wearing my silk pajamas.
I knew a clean face wouldn’t turn him off whatsoever. He’d fucked me with and without makeup, with the same intensity, like there was no difference between the two. In the mirror, I could see the large tub behind me, remember the conversations we’d had, the way he’d held me against his chest.