Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
We drink more and discuss future plans. I’ve got a million ideas and the band’s receptive, and slowly the pitcher disappears as we talk about what it’ll be like to grow them from a local group with a dedicated cult following to an international hit. The band is buzzing and excited, and I’m excited to be a part of their team, and finally I head to the bar to get a refill.
Once there, I feel someone sidle up next to my elbow. I glance over and Ansell’s staring back at me, head tilted slightly, lips pursed.
“How does it feel?” he asks, lips coming close to my ear.
I smile a little and shrug. “Good. Really good.”
“Are you happy?”
“I’m very happy.”
“And the band?”
“Even more excited than I am, if that’s possible.”
He sighs softly and his lips brush my cheek. “I wish I understood.”
“What do you mean?” I turn to him, head tilted, and his eyes move down my body. I blush as his gaze lingers on my skirt. I know what he’s thinking, and yes, I’m still in the same panties. They’re dry now, but it hasn’t been the most comfortable day imaginable.
“I’ve never felt that,” he says, leaning forward to speak into my ear over the noise of the crowded bar. “Even when Drake Entertainment began to take off and I built my empire. Even in my younger days working on the streets for the gangs and the mafias. Even when my other ventures began to find success and money poured into my life, I never felt the way you feel now.”
“Why?” I ask and lean back to look into his passive face. I don’t see any micro-expressions this time, only a neutral stare. “You feel things, Ansell. I know you do.”
“Only with you.” His hand moves around and brushes along my hip, resting on my lower back. “Only when you’re with me. I’ll admit it’s… confusing.”
“Why me?” I tremble at his touch as he pulls me closer. It’s like we’re alone, even if people are crushed into either side of us. “What is it about me?”
“I don’t know,” he admits, jaw working. “But I want to understand. All my life I’ve hunted for emotions. It’s why I’m in the entertainment business where emotions are so central to what we do. Everyone around me feels so deeply and yet it’s like the world passes through me without changing a thing inside. I want you to make me understand how it feels, how you’re feeling right now.”
“I will,” I whisper, standing on my toes to talk into his ear. “I want to. How can I do that?”
He seems to consider my question before taking my hand and turning away. He pulls me from the bar and tugs me through the crowd, away from the band, and toward the hall that leads to the bathrooms. There are a few people waiting in the shadows for an empty stall, but he keeps going past them, turning the corner and stopping in front of a door marked Emergency Exit Only. We’re out of sight and totally alone, draped in the shadows of a broken overhead light and an ancient, non-working soda machine, the outside dark and faded and covered in graffiti and stickers.
He presses me against the wall on the far side of the machine, out of sight of the rest of the bar. He pins my wrists up above my head and I’m breathing fast, afraid of what he’s about to do and worried about someone walking back here and catching us. But not worried enough to stop. He holds my hands there with one massive palm while the other thumb touches my lips, head tilted curiously, watching my reaction.
“Are you afraid?” he asks.
I hesitate then nod. “I don’t want to get caught.”
“You don’t want a stranger to see me doing this to you?”
“I’m not sure what you’re going to do. That’s the other thing. And the band’s waiting for me.”
“You’re afraid they’ll leave.”
“No, that’s not it. I’m afraid—” What am I afraid of? The way he makes me feel? Both terrified and excited, and how strange that is? “I’m afraid of you.”
“Good,” he whispers and bites my lower lip. He does it hard, almost hard enough to break skin. I yelp and try to push him back but he keeps me pinned. “I want you afraid. You know how much hell you’re going to drag me through? I want you terrified.”
“Ansell,” I whisper, arching my back as he kisses my neck.
“Make me feel it.” He grabs my hair and continues to keep me pinned to the wall, but I feel something hard and thick between his legs throbbing. “Make me feel the way you feel, Pearce.”
He guides me to my knees and I unbuckle his belt. I stare up into his passive eyes, but the spark is there again, that spark I love so much. Every time I see that fire come out, it’s like catching a glimpse of a secret behind a curtain, a secret he keeps from everyone but me.