Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I laughed. “Then I’d have been dead months ago.” I flipped the channel. Found ESPN and stopped. I’d watched more sports in the last year than I had my entire life. Brant read and invented in his free time, while Lee watched mindless games that had no impact on anyone’s life.
“I’m serious. What’s the point of having guards if they just smile and wave at anyone who pulls in?”
“I told you, they know who you are.”
“Which is what? Your fuck buddy?” The bitter tone in his voice gave me pause. I muted the TV and turned, rolling onto my side and looking up into his face.
“I’m not intimate friends with them, Lee. I told them to always let you in. Isn’t that good enough?”
“Why aren’t they loyal to Brant? He’s the one who pays their salary. Pays everyone’s bills in this place. And where the fuck is he?” This was angry Lee. Moody, gets pissed off at anything and everything Lee. My least favorite version of him, a side effect of a passionate man. Brant never got mad. “I’ve been over here ten times, and he’s never been home. Does he even live here?”
“You know he does.” I dropped my head back, stared at the ceiling and wondered how I got myself in these situations. How many more impossible questions Lee would have for me today. “Remember? That was a fight in itself.” I’ve fought with this man ten times more than I’ve ever fought with Brant.
“Rich fuck.” He shoved me off his lap as he stood, my body falling from the couch, a hand catching me as I flipped up my head and glared at Lee. He paced to the window, hands on his hips, the pose accentuating every cut of his bare upper half. “I swear Lana, you better hope I don’t ever run into him… you send me down here like some fucking pool boy while he fucks you up there in that mansion—”
“You hate the main house. That’s why we come down here.”
“Has he fucked you down here?” He turned abruptly, the light dimming in the house as the sun moved lower. Stared at me with eyes full of hatred and hurt.
“Please stop saying fuck,” I whispered.
“Has he fucked your sweet little cunt in this house?” He stepped closer, emphasizing every word, his voice a snarl as it finished, his hands dragging me to my feet and lifting hard on my waist, his grip so hard it hurt, the lift carrying me to the granite island counter, where he deposited me, his hands pushing open my legs, his body taking its place between them.
“No.” His hand captured my face when my answer came out, gripping me hard, his mouth following suit, crashing down on my lips with a neediness that ached.
“Promise me.” His other hand came hard on my ass, dragging me forward, to the edge of the counter ‘til he held me fully against him, the soft material of his shorts doing nothing to disguise his arousal. I hated the way he could do this. His need instantly turned me into a raw cavern of want.
“He hasn’t,” I gasped. “Please, I need…” I clawed at him, wrapped my legs around him, pulling at his neck to bring his mouth back to mine.
“Tell me.”
My hands fumbled at the top of his shorts. Reached inside and gripped him, his hold tightening on me the moment I had him fully in my hand. “This.”
“You know what I think you need?” He pushed into my hand. “Is to be bad.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I swallowed a mouthful of lust. “Then make me bad.”
“I’ll make you worse.”
Then he fucked me. Right there on the counter. And I screamed my orgasm against the waves and the gulls and the wind. And forty-two stories above us, the colossal mansion on the cliff was silent and empty.
Chapter 50
Living together changes a relationship. Brant and I didn’t have the normal relationship issues. There were no dirty dishes to argue over. No laundry left on unswept floors. No, the traditional sources of strife were handled by our over-attentive staff of seven. But even without fights, our relationship changed, improved as a result of our addresses merging.
If I had any doubt of my love, it disappeared with every morning I woke up next to this man. His focus best in the morning, when he woke me with gentle swipes of his fingers through my hair, soft kisses placed on the surface of my skin. I’d roll into his arms, and there we’d spend an extra hour in bed, blinking the sleep from our eyes as the warmth of coffee flooded our veins. Sometimes he read, my body curling into his as I fell back asleep on his shoulder. Sometimes we fucked, his hard-on impossible to ignore between us, playful kisses turned into much more by his hands. Mostly we talked. About his day or mine. About HYA events or BSX projects. About our future and whether we would have two kids or four. Private or public schooling. Stanford or Peace Corps.