Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I watched her take a seat in the passenger seat from the office window, smirking to myself at how rigid she looked alongside him, even going back to her normal life.
I watched with interest as he fired up the motor and flicked on the headlights, rumbling from the drive with nothing less than his foot flat to the floor in a final bid at impressing the creature next to him.
I watched until he was gone. His car nothing more than a flicker of light on the road ahead as he turned the corner at the bottom of the driveway.
Good. Fucking. Riddance.
And then I headed back upstairs to prepare Annabel Fisher’s slutty webcam haven for its brand new resident.
Chapter Seven
Paige
I woke slowly, blinking against the light. I was so snug and warm. More comfortable than I’d ever been in my life. A cocoon of fabric around tired limbs.
I didn’t want to move.
Dreams were calling me back for more, and I’d have gone with them happily if my consciousness hadn’t spiked just a little too close to the surface. My fluttery eyes found focus as I chanced a look around myself.
And there he was.
Brandon Grant.
The still-suited god of my dreams and nightmares combined, resting easily atop the covers to my right. He was slumped. A pillow behind his head. His eyes were closed. His breaths steady. Legs crossed at the ankle, poised just so, even in slumber.
It felt strange to watch him sleeping. Strange to see him in any way vulnerable to events outside his control, even for just a moment.
I felt like I shouldn’t be looking at him. Shouldn’t dare the boldness of feasting on him with eager eyes while his were closed, but I couldn’t stop. For the very life of me I couldn’t stop.
I shifted in bed as carefully as I could, rolling under the covers to face him. The bedroom window was beyond and the curtains weren’t fully closed. The slash of morning light was severe through the drapes. It picked out the fan of his dark eyelashes, the perfect heaviness of his stubble.
“It’s rude to stare.”
His voice was gruff, but not malicious. My belly did a sickly flip as he turned his face in my direction with the beginnings of a smile.
I knew the sixty days were ongoing and I should be falling at his feet like a good girl and calling him sir. I knew I should be super aware of giving him every little scrap of obedience he wanted from me, and apologise for daring to look at him in the first place.
But I couldn’t.
The atmosphere was strange.
Murky in the half light.
Complicated.
Surreal.
I decided saying nothing at all was the safest option. I let out a breath as I relaxed back under the covers and forced my gaze to the ceiling.
His eyes burned. Staring.
I felt that in my belly too.
“Well?” he prompted. “Did you enjoy the bed?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said, then paused. “Sir.”
I felt him stiffen.
“I could have made you sleep on the bathroom floor like a dirty little slut. You didn’t deserve my generosity.”
Another breath, and I wasn’t ready for this. I so wanted more sleep. More comfort.
My sister.
“Thank you for the bed, sir,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it. “It was very comfortable.”
I shifted again, but this time it was away from him a little. My eyes scoured the room all over again, wondering if this was my space now. If I really could be the kind of girl he wanted me to be. As good as the others. Worthy of his reward.
Worthy of his mercy in letting my sister know I was ok.
“Today it begins,” he said.
I nodded.
“You are reticent for a girl who has willingly sold her very soul for sixty days straight. That will be changing soon enough, sweetheart. Savour the moment.”
With that he got to his feet. I watched him rise. I followed his movements as he paced to his jacket and pulled his cigarettes from his inside pocket. His stance was menacing as he pulled back the curtains and opened the window to its widest. I blinked against the onrush of light, barely able to make him out as he sparked up his lighter and took his first drag.
He leaned into the windowsill, elbows propped, shoulders strong.
The cool breeze danced across my face, the scent of tobacco along with it.
That’s when I took my chance.
“Please, sir,” I said. “Please let me call my sister. I need her to know I’m ok. I need her to be ok.” I paused as he shot me a glare over his shoulder, but I couldn’t stop. “Please, sir, I can’t give you my all if I don’t make sure she’s going to be ok without me. I won’t be able to give myself to you if part of me is going crazy for her.”