Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
But did I have a choice? Ben was right. I had him or my father. And Daddy had closed all doors that led back to him. It wasn’t a choice at all. There was only one way to go. I bit my lip, then hiked up my skirts and walked over to the bike. Swinging one leg across the seat, I clambered up. Ben nodded once I had settled on and we took off, headed for God only knew what.
# # #
The smell of fresh paint overwhelmed me as Ben opened the door to the apartment. I followed him inside. The place was practically bare, with just a few pieces of furniture scattered across the wood floors. Nothing hung on the walls. It looked like a monk’s cell, though I did notice that there were big windows along one wall that let the sunlight stream in.
Ben threw the keys onto the kitchen counter. He strode to the couch, then eased himself onto it with a groan as he ripped off the jacket and tossed it aside, followed by the bowtie. He rolled up the sleeves of the shirt, revealing brawny forearms rippling with veins. Then he leaned his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes.
“Does anyone actually live here?” I demanded. I was bristling with irritation for reasons I couldn’t explain. How could he just sit there and look so freaking comfortable? Did he give a damn about what was happening to me? About what he was doing to me? What he was making me do? It sure as hell didn’t look like it. He looked like the most content man in the world, leaning back on that couch with his eyes closed like he was about to take a nice little catnap.
He didn’t open his eyes when he spoke. “New place,” he murmured. “Just got it.”
“Do you own anything? Furniture, kitchen supplies…?”
“Nope. What you see is what you get.”
“You’re joking.”
“It’d be a pretty bad joke.”
I crossed my arms and huffed. I knew I was coming off as petty, but for the moment I didn’t care. I wanted him to react, to do something or say something so I knew he wasn’t just some tattooed robot. He had to be feeling something. I had emotions enough for the two of us, but that wasn’t good enough. I needed to get behind that pretty face of his and figure out just what he planned to do now.
“Why did you agree to all of this?” I asked.
“Eh?” he grunted.
I waved my hands around. “This! All of this! Marrying me, for crying out loud!” Could he really be so dense?
“Dunno.”
“What?”
“I said, dunno.”
I stared at him in disbelief. I wanted to slap him. This wasn’t the smooth, charming biker who’d more or less swept me off my feet at a party. The man sitting on the couch a few feet away from me was a mute Neanderthal with the emotional capacity of a rock. I wanted to wake him up, jolt him to life, shake him until he admitted that he actually gave a damn about what happened next.
Then again, maybe he didn’t. More likely than not, I’d been another forgettable notch in his belt, just some innocent girl he’d taken advantage of and then tossed into the night like a used condom. Maybe there were more girls like me, stashed in empty apartments like this across the city, waiting desperately for him to come home and feed them miniscule scraps of his attention. I wouldn’t be like that. I would never beg him for anything. Not now, not ever.
“You don’t know,” I said flatly.
“That’s what I said.”
“Is this something you do frequently? Get girls pregnant and marry them just to keep their daddies happy?”
“I’d have to say this is a first for me.”
“You seem awfully casual about it.”
“It is what it is.”
I felt like tearing my hair out in frustration. Or maybe I’d tear his out instead. “‘It is what it is?’ You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“I do.”
I stammered wordlessly. There were no words for how angry he was making me. How could one man get under my skin with such little effort? My face felt hot again, but this time it was with a blank, fiery rage, directed at one man—Ben Killmore. “You…I…You have to…I mean…” I babbled. Finally, I managed to spit out, “You have to feel something.”
He cracked an eye open for the first time. “Nah.”
All I could was echo him. “Nah?” I screeched.
“Can you do anything besides repeat what I say?”
Before I could stop myself, I took one long stride and slapped him across the face. Served the bastard right. How dare he mock me. Didn’t he know that my life was crumbling around me? Didn’t he know he’d caused it?
His reaction was lightning quick. He rose, unfurling himself to his full height, which towered over me. Grabbing my wrists in each hand, he spun me around. At the same time, he hooked one foot around my ankles and swept my feet out from under me. I fell backwards onto the couch. He followed, pinning me down. I was surrounded by his bulk, his smell. His face flared with intensity. I shivered. My rage shriveled immediately. Something about the way he was looking at me screamed danger, heat, violence. It screamed, Listen.