Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
How did I go six weeks without this?
My nails were deep in his back with my mouth against his ear. “I miss feeling you come inside me…”
A small earthquake moved through his body, a shiver I could feel under my fingertips. His thrusts became deeper, and he grabbed me by the neck and forced me back, my eyes on him. His thumb pressed against my bottom lip as his thrusts quickened, pounding into the finish line.
He came with a sexy moan, his hard face becoming even harder as he gave it all to me. “You want more, sweetheart?”
I brought his lips to mine and kissed him, feeling his hardness remain. “Please…”
I cooked dinner in the kitchen, for two instead of one, and then brought it to the dining table.
He sat there shirtless, in just his black boxers, his hair messy from my anxious fingers. The curtain was still drawn closed, so we couldn’t enjoy the view of the city at night. He watched me serve him, his eyes on me instead of the food.
I sat across from him with my plate, wearing his t-shirt, like we were in my apartment in Paris. It was a mediocre dinner of grilled chicken with vegetables and rice, but I’d been trying to stick to a healthy diet instead of pasta and bread all the time.
He ate with his elbows on the table, disregarding all manners, being a typical man.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
He’d been there since that afternoon, but it still felt like a dream.
A wet dream.
We shared a bottle of wine, and despite our time apart, we had nothing to say.
I was just happy to be with him. Deliriously happy.
He didn’t compliment my cooking. He probably couldn’t even taste it because I was still all over his tongue.
When the meal was over, we stared at each other.
I drank from my glass, admiring the view of the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. Hard. Chiseled. Intense.
Mine.
I wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
“I’ll tell Victor in the morning.” I felt bad using him when I wouldn’t be able to uphold my end of the deal. He would probably cancel the whole thing, but I’d find another way to accomplish my goals.
“Tell me everything that’s happened with him.” Now he was serious, the drug kingpin.
“As in, our plan?”
“Yes. From the beginning.”
“Well, I spoke to my father first, told him how hurt I was. My father said he noticed the way Victor looked at me, and that gave me an idea. I asked if Victor wanted to help me destroy Leonardo, and he agreed. Not just because I asked, but because he was angry with the way my father treated me.”
“But he made a condition.”
“Yes. That I’d be willing to give him another chance…whenever I was ready to.”
Bartholomew’s stare was hard, back to his usual poker face. “And you meant that?”
“I guess.” I was so desperate to achieve my goals, I would have sold my soul to the devil.
“You still have feelings for him.” He spoke in a calm tone, like that assumption didn’t infuriate him.
“Not the way I do for you.”
His expression didn’t change, like that wasn’t enough for him.
“You’ve never been married, so it’s hard to explain. I’ll always care for him—and he’ll always care for me. I guess there’s this subtle attachment there, because of everything we shared. Maybe if there had been infidelity, we would have wound up hating each other, but that’s not what happened.”
Instead of releasing a tirade of insults, he stayed quiet. “And you trust him?”
“Trust him how?”
“Not to tell Leonardo all of this.”
“I don’t think he would do that…”
“I’m not so sure. He’s worked for him his entire adult life. I doubt he would squander that for anything.”
“What are you implying?” I asked.
He scratched the scruff of his jawline as he looked at the closed curtains, like he could see the city through the fabric. “You think the two of you are plotting against Leonardo, but I think the two of them are plotting against you.”
“Victor wouldn’t do that—”
“Not to hurt you.” Bartholomew looked at me again. “Leonardo isn’t stupid, and he knows what kind of daughter he has. He may brush off the incident like it wasn’t a big deal, but he knows it’s a big deal. He knows you’re going to come for him. But he doesn’t want to kill you. No man would want to kill his daughter unless he had no other choice.” He shared his thoughts with me, laying out an analysis that hadn’t even crossed my mind. “So he’s trying to neutralize you. Tame your anger. Drop your hostility. Get his second daughter back into his life.”
“It’s certainly plausible. I don’t put anything past my father. But there’s no reason for Victor to do that.”
Bartholomew stared. “None?”
My eyes flicked back and forth because I couldn’t follow his insinuation.