Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
The dark power that seems to swirl around him.
His hand cups my jaw, and I all but whimper out loud as his thumb traces my jawline.. His firm hand on my bare knee sends a wicked pulse of something so wrong and so forbidden chasing through my body.
His dark eyes lock right into mine, and this time, I can’t help but shiver.
He sees it, and his lips pull back in a smile.
“No, I’m not, I—”
“You don’t need to be afraid,” he says softly in that deep, resonating, powerful, accented voice.
This is all wrong.
Jagger Kovac is supposed to be a monster. He should be yelling at me, or hitting me, or ordering me to clean his house or cook his supper as his new lowly slave. That or telling me to do awful, filthy things.
My face burns at the thought.
It’s not the first time I’ve thought it either — the idea that my purpose here isn’t just to be a servant to a man who probably already has a bunch of servants. And I’m ashamed that the thought gets my body tingling.
Horribly.
His hand on my chin drops back to my knee along with the other, and they move up slightly. Barely, but enough to let me know he knows what he’s doing to me.
My heart flips in my chest, my breath catches.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he says quietly, forcefully. His scent is intoxicating, swirling through my head and sending tingly feelings through my body until I can feel my thighs clench tight together.
I don’t say anything, but somehow, slowly, I can feel myself relaxing — the fear I felt before slowly leaving my body.
“Do you know why I’ve brought you here?”
I shake my head.
“To take care of you, angel,” he growls softly, his hands tightening on my bare thighs. “You’re not going to clean, or cook, or do goddamn anything ever again unless you want to. Do you understand? No one’s going to hit you, or tell you can’t follow your dreams, or any of that shit ever again.”
His voice raises and raises as he speaks until he’s practically spitting the words out. And all the while, my heart only beats faster and faster, my breath catching with his words.
“You’re mine, but you’re mine to protect now. Mine to keep. To save. And you might just save me too, angel,” he finishes, his voice soft.
It’s crazy because this man doesn’t even know me, and I don’t know him other than reputation. And yet I’m instantly connected to him. Instantly, I want him to do all those things for me. I want him to be my protector. My keeper.
My body trembles.
“Do you want all that?” he purrs.
I swallow, my throat tight as the feeling and the power of his words grip me.
“If you don’t, the bet is null. I’ll take you back to your life and your fath—”
“No.” I shake my head.
Staying here with him is crazy but wanting to go back to the shell of a life I had before is crazier. The first is impulsively crazy. The second is self-loathing crazy. And for once in my life, I choose spontaneity.
“No,” I say again, my eyes locking onto his and drowning in them. “I don’t want to go back.”
Jagger’s jaw tightens, and a shadow of something crosses his face as his eyes blaze into mine.
“Think about what you say next very carefully,” he growls. “If you stay, you’re going to be mine. Mine and only mine. Do you understand that?”
I swallow, pulse hammering in my chest.
Spontaneous craziness.
I want to be his.
“I’m sure,” I say quietly.
He smiles softly, his dark eyes sparking. His hands linger on my knees, kneading the skin there before slowly, he stands.
“Come with me.”
He takes my hand in his much bigger, powerful one and pulls me gently to my feet. He leads me from the room, hand-in-hand, and as we walk through the insanely gorgeous house, he places his other hand on the small of my back, right above my butt. The feel of him there sends a heated thrill through me, and yet also makes me feel so held, and so protected.
We step through the lavish house, and my lips barely close once as I gawp at the incredible place.
“Your house is beautiful,” I whisper.
“Thank you.”
He turns, his eyes landing on mine, his hand tightening on mine, and his palm pressing heatedly into the small of my back.
“It’s your house now too, you know.”
I blush. I’ve never had someone treat me like this — like I’m a princess or something.
“This is your room now.”
My breath catches.
God.
The room he leads me into is insane — a huge, glass bedroom overhanging the beach with views on three sides of the Pacific Ocean. A gorgeous, sumptuous-looking California king bed takes up the middle of the room, away from any wall just standing by itself like a throne or something. Everything about the room is so clean, and pristine — softness everywhere.