Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I wouldn't say that the conversation with Kincaid was confrontational. He was soft-spoken and conversational, but I could sense the irritation in the man when he didn't get answers to his questions the way he expected he would. I imagine the man is accustomed to getting exactly what he wants whenever he wants.
Beck leaned in closer to me as he felt the need to shield me from his boss, and I could tell he did it on instinct rather than acting in some expected or planned way.
Knowing that everything is transactional in life, I feel as if I owe Beck something for that simple protection even though I know the man would never go head-to-head with his boss. Whatever level of chivalry he felt in the moment, he'd never risk losing his job and way of life for a woman who can't seem to get her shit together enough to get out of a fucking closet.
Despite knowing that, it doesn't make the scales any less uneven.
When a chip of nail comes off on my tongue, I pick it away with my fingers, Nathan’s voice in my ear reminding me that it's not only unladylike to chew on them, but it's also incredibly unsanitary to do so. I chew the next fingernail even harder, my insolence one of the very few ways I can fight back against the voice in my head.
Beck’s breathing is calm and even, but that doesn't mean anything. I don't know how many times I quietly climbed out of bed to go to the bathroom to clean my wounds when I thought either Nathan or Xan were asleep only to be punished for getting up.
I remind myself as I stand and cross the room that Beck isn't either of those men.
I haven't caught him looking at me like I'm something he owns, and the only reason I'm still allowed to breathe is simply because he allows it. Those were Nathan and Xan's traits.
He doesn't shift his weight or startle when I press my knee into the mattress.
The moon is big enough tonight that it's shining a little light in the room. Although most of his handsome face is cast in shadows, I know the moment he opens his eyes. I sense his attention on me even if I couldn't see it for myself.
There's a certain kind of power Beck has, and although he could, he never seems to want to use it against me. I don't know if acting like he's an innocent hero is part of his game or if he's just genuinely a nice person.
He doesn't pull away when I press one hand into his pillow on the opposite side of his head.
He doesn't argue or ask me what I'm doing when I lower my mouth until it's just a breath away from his.
He is hesitant at first when I press my lips to his, but his sharp intake of breath and the way he shifts a little on the mattress tells me that if he isn't interested, he's at least curious.
When I swipe my tongue at his lips, urging them open, he doesn't deny my entry.
The groan that erupts from his throat does more to me than it should, and I sort of hate his ability to draw that sort of reaction from me.
I have to keep reminding myself that this is payment, that I'm giving him something he wants because he's been so nice to me.
I lower myself down, letting some of my weight settle against his body, but he doesn't reach for me. He doesn't flip me on my back and take what he wants. The man doesn't even touch me despite his need, because I know he's gripping the blanket under his hips.
He doesn't move until I run my hand down that line of muscles on his abdomen, on its way to the front of his sweatpants.
He grips my hand in his, but I feel exactly how much I'm affecting him before he manages it. He doesn't have a strong hold on my hand, but I know he'll tighten it if I try to touch him again.
"Let me," I say.
"You don't have to do this," he says, his thumb massaging the back of my hand in a way that feels much more intimate to me than having a handful of his cock would.
"You've been so nice to me," I explain. "I owe you."
He shakes his head, his free hand coming up to cup the side of my face. He frowns when I flinch, fearful that he's going to strike me.
"Jesus." His voice is a whisper, and I hear the curse of both Xan and Nathan in it. "You owe me nothing, but if you feel the need, a thank you is enough."
Tears burn the backs of my eyes for only a second before they crest my lower lids and fall to his t-shirt-covered chest.