Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“I saw what you did on New Year’s Eve,” I say, my back still to him. “How did he take it?”
“My uncle?” he asks. “He didn’t like it. Even decided to come all the way here to tell me so himself.”
“Did you find anything useful?”
“Not unless you count some sketchy texts from a guy by the name of CJ about discreet wire transfers.”
“What do you think that’s about?”
“Money laundering. Fraud. Who knows.” He doesn’t seem particularly disturbed by the possibility, like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.
I turn around to face him. “Shayne seems to think he’s dangerous.”
He scoffs, “Must not think he’s too dangerous seeing as how she let you play decoy.”
“That was different. Publicly calling him out like that? That was beyond reckless.”
He smirks, sauntering up to me until we’re only inches apart. “Worried about me, Sweet Valentine?”
I roll my eyes. “Worried about your self-preservation instincts.”
“I don’t have those. Which explains why I’m still pursuing you.”
“Hilarious,” I say flatly.
“Jokes aside,” he says, his tone becoming uncharacteristically serious. His palm cups my jaw, his long fingers curving around my neck, sliding into the back of my hair and gripping firmly. “I know what I’m getting myself into. But I don’t want you near him again.”
“Actually, I was just about to call him up and ask him out for coffee,” I deadpan.
“I’m serious, Valen.”
I look up into his eyes, noticing that there’s something else beneath his usual playful demeanor. His eyes are rimmed with red with dark circles around them. He looks exhausted.
“Fine.” I shrug, acutely aware of the fact that he’s still cupping my face. “It’s not like we’ll ever be in the same room together again, anyway.”
“Even if you are—”
“Jesus, Holden, okay. I will not ever speak to your uncle again. What’s going on? And does it have anything to do with the fact that you look like a zombie?”
His hand falls from my face, taking his warmth with him as he takes a step back. “I haven’t slept much,” he admits, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands before running his fingers through his wet hair to push it off his forehead. “Which brings me to why you’re here.”
“You…want me to knock you out?” I’m not connecting the dots.
“I want you to sleep with me.”
I arch an eyebrow. I mean, I figured that was what he wanted, but I didn’t expect him to blurt it out so eloquently.
“I mean literally sleep with you. Next to you. I think we should sleep together.”
“Why?”
“Because for some fucked-up reason, I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since we were at the cabin, and I’m fucking desperate at this point.” He sits on the edge of his bed with his elbows resting on his spread knees.
“You’re serious,” I say, the skepticism clear in my voice. “Just sleep?”
“No. I fully plan on fucking you again. And then we can sleep.”
I shake my head. “You’re unbelievable. If you remember correctly, we said last time was the last time.”
“I’m honest,” he corrects, “and if you remember correctly, we were interrupted before we got to have a last time.”
“That’s called divine intervention. Even the universe knows this is a bad idea.”
“Fuck the universe. Tell me the truth.”
“About what?”
“That you like how I fuck you.” He reaches out to hook his finger into the waistband of my leggings, tugging me forward until I’m standing between his legs. His hands grip my hips as he looks up at me with heat in his eyes. “That you want to do it again. That we were both lying to ourselves if we thought for one second that once would be enough.”
Technically twice. I open my mouth to tell him no, to tell him that it was a mistake and has the potential to blow up in our faces, but the words won’t come out.
“That you haven’t stopped thinking about it since,” he continues, curling his fingers inside my leggings. He drags them down slowly, inch by inch, taking my underwear along with them. He stops once they’re mid-thigh. The pulse in my clit throbs, my entire body buzzing with anticipation. Because he’s right, and I hate that he is. “We both want this. Why should we stop?” His arms band around my thighs, holding them together as he jerks me forward. I steady myself with my hands in his hair, sliding my fingers through the wet strands.
“You have such a pretty pussy,” he says before leaning forward. Just before his tongue can make contact, I tighten my grip in his hair and angle his head back. When he looks up at me, his eyes are blazing, thick with lust.
“I came here to end this.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Unfortunately for me, I have an itch that only you can seem to scratch.”
His lips spread into a proud smile at my admission. It makes him look even more attractive, and I hate him for it a little. “I fail to see the problem here.”