Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
I feel myself blanch.
“I didn’t. Not my style.” He shifts his gaze back to the stuffed rabbit. “It’s not the same one,” he says, confusing me.
“What?”
“The rabbit. Sofia, right? She had pink ears.”
He picked up that detail and remembered it from all those years ago?
“Did this belong to your brother?”
“How do you know about my brother?”
“Don’t you remember what I told you? I know everything about you.”
I go to him, and this time, he lets me snag Patty out of his hand. I retreat. “Don’t touch it. Don’t touch anything that belongs to me.”
“But what’s yours is mine, Cristina. You belong to me, remember?” Walking toward me, he forces me to match his steps in the opposite direction as I back away from him.
This close, I need to crane my neck to look up at him. He’s fully dressed, while I’m almost naked not to mention how much taller and bigger than me he is. I’m at a complete disadvantage and I feel it even more so when the toes of his shoes touch the tips of my bare ones.
“I don’t belong to you. People aren’t things you can own,” I say when my back hits the cold stone wall.
“Hmm.” His gaze roams my face, hovers at my lips, then returns to my eyes. “I’ve never seen eyes that color.”
My breathing is shallow as I process his words, try to understand his meaning. His intention. Because what the hell does he want with me?
“Well, now you have. Let me go.”
“They’re very pretty.” His gaze drops lower to where I’m clutching the blanket, and the look in his eyes sends a charge of electricity through me.
This man, he’s part beast. And he’s hungry.
“You’re very pretty,” he adds.
Why do I feel flustered at that? I don’t get a lot of compliments, so maybe it’s that I’m not used to it. I don’t think I’m ugly, but the scar on my face, well, it is ugly.
“What were you dreaming about?” he asks.
He knows about the dream. He was here, sitting in the chair. He was watching me. I remember.
“Nothing. None of your business.” I try to shove past him, but he captures my arm, stopping me. We’re closer than we were just a moment ago, and it’s hard to keep my breathing level. Hard to mask my reactions to him when I can’t quite figure them out myself.
“Tell me.”
“Why?”
“You were restless. It got worse when the lightning storm started.”
“I wouldn’t have had it if you hadn’t drugged me.”
“Is that right?”
No, it’s not, but I don’t tell him that. I have that particular nightmare every single time it storms.
“And what the hell were you doing watching me sleep? Do you think that seems remotely normal?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I like looking at you.”
I don’t know if I expected him to feel embarrassed at being caught, but he’s not. Far from it.
“Tell me something,” he starts, leaning in so close I can’t help but inhale the scent of cologne and soap and man. “Are you still afraid of the dark, Cristina?”
I try to tug free because now he’s just playing with me. “Let me go.”
“Are you?”
“Fuck you.”
He pushes my back to the wall and cages me in, leaning his elbows on either side of my head.
“Are you asking me to fuck you?” he asks.
My belly flips at the way he says those last two words. The fuck you. It’s sensual, erotic.
No, more than that.
From his lips, it’s pornographic.
One corner of his mouth curves upward, and I realize the shadow of stubble along his sharp jaw has grown denser. He hasn’t shaved since yesterday.
My knees give out again, and I instinctively grab his shoulder just as he catches me, holding me upright. His eyes grow serious as he studies me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say I spy concern in them.
“You should get back into bed. You’re not stable.”
“Because you drugged me.”
“It’ll be out of your system soon. Get back into bed until it is.”
“I want my clothes.” I’m flustered and out of my element. Way out of my league.
“You don’t listen.”
“No, I’ve never been known to do as I’m told.”
“You’re cute.” He grins and grabs hold of the blanket I’ve got a death grip on.
“Let go.”
“You let go.”
We have a stare down. I have no doubt he could pull the blanket free if he wanted. “Do you like this? Messing with me?”
“It passes the time.”
“Let go. I mean it.”
“I thought you’d have more pressing questions you’d want to ask.”
“Let go or I’ll fucking hurt you.”
“Is that so? I’d love to see you try. But let me warn you, you get rough, I get rough. And I don’t think you’re in any condition for that.”
I swallow at his warning, my body shuddering.
He grins again. He sees I’m afraid of him. And he likes it.
Bastard.
He wants to see if I’m all talk? A coward?