Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
I back up a step, choosing anger as my armor. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“Don’t I get a hello? A, how was your flight?” His voice drops an octave. “A kiss?” When I don’t reply, he chuckles. “I guess not.”
I hate that I can’t press the panic button or call the police. I don’t want to endanger my family by phoning Ryan. I hate how helpless I am. The only weapon I have is pretending not to be scared. Men like Angelo feed on people’s fear. All I can do is act as if I have the situation under control.
“Get out of my house,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as I can. “You’re trespassing.”
“It’s been a long time,” he drawls. “Let me have a look at you.”
A click sounds. The lamp on the table goes on. The light spills around him, bringing the features etched into my mind to life. He’s broader. Stronger. I can see it even with him sitting. More dangerous than ever. Ominous energy rolls off him in waves. The light doesn’t dispel the darkness coming from within him. His hair is longer and messier. The scruff on his jaw must be two days old. He’s wearing a white shirt, smart black slacks, and dress shoes, but he looks less polished. Rougher.
The last few months haven’t been good to him.
“As pretty as always,” he says. “Even more beautiful as a woman than as an innocent girl.”
The innocent part isn’t lost on me. He took that from me, but only emotionally. He introduced me to betrayal, pain, and grief and taught me that no one can be trusted. Least of all him. That part of my innocence he stole violently.
The physical part, the part that has only known one man? That part, I gave to him. I’m still not sure why. I want to believe it was the alcohol or that I just wanted to give him a last first to stop his warped game. Yet I know that’s not true. I wanted it to be him. The girl who fell in love with him was still living somewhere in my chest, but he killed her when he murdered my father.
He straightens, taking his time. I can’t read the expression in his eyes, but his laser stare burns into my soul. I swallow when he slowly crosses the floor and stops in front of me.
I was right. He’s large in physical form and in presence. The room is too small for him. His muscles bunch under his clothes. Where his sleeves are folded back, his skin is tanned and embossed with veins. Angelo Russo has always been a tough, hardened man, even at twenty. I think he was already a man when he was only a boy. Now, he’s a god. A powerful one. Nothing short of a monster.
He reaches out and dips a finger under the towel where it covers my breasts. I try to pull back, but he’s too fast. Too strong. With a single tug, he yanks me against him. My belly heats with fear and something else, something like a distant echo of a forbidden pleasure.
I look at his face. His eyes are the color of molasses. The irises are so dark they bleed into the black of his pupils. The intensity in his gaze as he measures me is startling. Frightening. He’s only twenty-three, yet he looks like a man with the experience of one of forty. I know the things he’s done. I know the things he’s seen. No wonder he’s too wise and too old for his age.
Pressing my palms on his chest, I try to create distance between us, but he traps me against the steel length of his body with a hand on my lower back, continuing to pull at the towel until it gives way. The edges fall open, revealing my breasts, but he doesn’t look away from my eyes. He reads my reaction as if he’s curious about what he’ll find, whether I’ll give him defiance or permission.
Exposed to the cool air in the room, my nipples harden. The towel slips down to my hips, his hand on my back and his body pressed against mine at the front holding it up. I suck in a breath. I have to be clever. If I run, I’m fucked. That’s what he wants. I sense it. He wants to hunt and catch me. Isn’t that what we’ve always been doing? I’ve been hiding, and he’s been stalking.
A silent battle rages between us. He breaks our eye contact first, sweeping his gaze down to my naked curves. When he reaches out, I strain in his hold, but he tightens his grip on my back in silent warning. If he was a wolf, I swear he’d growl. Maybe he’d sink his teeth into my shoulder.