Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“How do you know how to do a stage kiss?”
“Theater kid. Duh. Are you really surprised?”
“Not in the slightest.”
She grins and reaches up to stroke my cheek, my jaw. I don’t realize how cold it truly is in here until the warmth of her slender fingers burns into me with their slight pressure.
“Tilt your head that way,” she says. “I’ll tilt mine the other, and then . . .”
As I oblige, she pushes up, her mouth coming close to mine, offering her sweet-scented breath. When her lips touch me, it’s below my bottom lip.
A warm imprint of a kiss. Not the heated lock and pressure and slick caresses I suddenly ache for more deeply than I have any right to.
“See?” she whispers, her lips moving against my skin in caresses that rouse a shudder against me. “Easy.”
Whispering back like this is awkward, to say the least. “I know it’s dark, but can they not see our lips aren’t touching?”
“Not with my head tilted this way,” she answers. “My face blocks where our mouths would tou—mmn!”
I shouldn’t have tilted my head to ease the slight strain on my neck.
Because suddenly those syllables are pressing into my mouth.
And I lose all sense.
All reason.
All control.
Her strawberry mouth fits mine like we were made for each other.
The whole damn movie becomes a blur.
The sounds of screaming, hacking blades, and sinister voices fade away until I can hear only our mated breaths. It’s like no matter how we pretend, some part of us knows and draws us back to each other again and again.
Our dueling lips meld until there’s no room to breathe between us.
Nothing left but the air sizzling between this kiss as my lungs grow tight.
I don’t care.
Tonight, I’ll indulge, even if I can’t be the man Elle needs me to be.
I can’t risk hurting her again, but for now I need to taste her more than I need to breathe.
Heat. Velvety skin. Lust.
The dark lusciousness of her mouth, so soft and reminiscent of the feeling of plunging into yielding flesh and feeling her arch against me. Her inner depths open to let my tongue probe and seek and claim within her. I feel every taste of her like I’m thrusting into her all over again, the cold of the theater vanishing when I’m just a thin shell over a dark roaring fire.
The way she submits to me.
The way she leans in and clutches at my shirt like she’ll take everything I have, if only I just give it all up.
Give.
Some warped, deep part of me wants to.
Some devil part of me wants to break myself into pieces until I can be just as open as her, meet her halfway, feel this thing unrestrained as I groan and sink deeper into her mouth.
Mine, goddammit.
Mine.
Just for tonight.
I capture her lips, biting them hard enough to leave my mark, loving how her sweet flesh gives and plumps and rises for me.
Elle spills a whispered moan and goes trembling against me, her mouth so ripe and waiting.
“August . . . ,” she breathes, and I taste my own name in her mouth. It’s never tasted this warm, this vibrant.
I’m definitely neither of those things.
That stark reminder of who I am—a stunted, broken thing who can only hurt her—dashes that heat and leaves me ice cold.
I break back sharply.
Fuck.
I feel like a human knife, all frigid edges, as she looks up with confusion. Then with a flicker of hurt, like a small animal hoping the carnivore won’t sink its teeth in.
“Elle.” I swallow hard. “I’m sorry.”
There it is.
Her smile.
Lovely as always, and yet now I know it’s not real.
“For what?” she asks brightly, turning to face the screen again. She nestles against me comfortably like nothing’s happened, her head resting against my arm. “At least now we can be sure it was convincing.” She glances at me from the corner of her eye curiously. “Do you think I should stay over tonight? Since we’re clearly still being followed.”
I look at her helplessly. I want to say something to bridge this distance, but what can I say?
So I only shake my head. “Not tonight. I’ll be on the phone all night with the legal team. It’ll just keep you awake.”
“From the guest room?” Her lips curl in wry amusement.
“You’ve never heard me shouting at Little Key’s lawyers.”
“That’s fair.”
I turn my gaze to the screen as the previews fade, the screen goes dark, and then the flicker of the opening credits and music rises.
This disquiet feels wrong.
“Tomorrow night,” I say impulsively.
Me, impulsive? Ha.
This little brat is scrambling my wires.
“Would you like to go ballroom dancing?”
A stunned look flies at me. “Wait. You’re actually asking me instead of telling me five minutes before I have to be ready?”
Teasing. It restores some of the ease between us, and I smile slightly.
“I said I’d try.” I snort.