Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Twisting her body in the seat, she climbs over the console to straddle me. The act takes me by surprise. Of all the reactions she could have, this is the one I least expected. The position must be tough on her hip, but I can’t bring myself to move her, not when she frames my face between her soft palms and stares into my eyes. Not when I’m holding my breath for her answer.
“I don’t care,” she says, pressing her lips on mine.
The elation that slams into me is violent. Like a shot of adrenaline injected straight into my veins, it spikes my pulse and heats my stomach.
Her kiss is soft and accepting. My heart starts beating differently in my chest. Easier. And there’s that feeling again. Invincible. It’s the moment that changes me, the words that set me free.
I reciprocate by dipping my hands under the hem of her dress and ravishing her mouth. She moans into the kiss, letting go of my face to pull the top of her dress down and expose her breasts. I fumble with the button of my jeans, eagerness making me clumsy. When I finally get the zipper down and free my cock, I pull the elastic of her underwear aside and surge into her too hard and too fast, but there’s no stopping now. I’m tumbling head-first into this new, foreign territory and speeding toward the future without brakes.
“Leon,” she says, moaning when I hit the right spot.
I twist her hair around my fist and tug to make her face me. My voice is thick with the command. “Tell me again.”
She gasps, her lips parting in an ecstatic expression. “I don’t care.”
Fuck, yeah.
If falling in love is a great feeling, having that love returned is even greater. Nothing could’ve expressed that she cared enough about me better than telling me she didn’t give a damn.
CHAPTER 21
Violet
I feel lighter than ever.
My husband chose to be honest with me. Last night, he told me he was part of one of the most notorious gangs of the century, and he was right when he said we’re perfect for each other, because I must be warped for the idea to turn me on. At night after work, when I draw, my woman is hijacking a spaceship with her alien and embarking on new, daring explorations. The scenes are much more upbeat and considerably less dark, reflecting my current mood.
Leon’s praise and encouragement gave me something I never had. He gifted me with confidence in my art and myself, enough to show some of the drawings to Vero on Wednesday. Her reaction is so enthusiastic it gives my self-esteem another boost.
“I have a literary agent friend who’ll be very interested in these,” she says, flipping through the pages. “Do you mind if I take a photo to show him?”
“Of course not.”
She snaps a photo with her phone. “You and your husband must come over for dinner on Friday. I’m hosting a small party at home, and Ethan Meyer will be there.”
“Ethan Meyer?” I shriek.
He’s one of the most renowned and feared graphic novel agents in the country. He has a reputation for landing his clients major book deals, but he’s also famous for being brutally honest. If your work sucks, he’ll tell you so to your face. The problem with that isn’t the disappointment. Well, not only. The big deal about being rejected by Ethan Meyer is that every door in the industry will close in your face. Forever. That’s the kind of power he wields. He's nothing if not a god. He’s the gatekeeper of the local equivalent of Marvel and DC and every other noteworthy animation publisher and media company combined.
“Are you sure?” I ask, tapping into my newfound confidence while trying hard not to wince.
“Wear a pretty dress,” she says. “He’s a fashion snob. Oh, and bring some of these sketches. Like I know Ethan, he’ll want to see them on the spot.”
My stomach tightens with nerves and excitement. “I’ll ask my husband if he can make it and get back to you.”
“Honey.” She hands me back my folder. “If your husband loves you, he’ll be there.”
If my husband loves me.
Can I call it love?
Leon and I have amazing sex. We accept one another without judgment. We didn’t enter our marriage with preconceived expectations or unrealistic dreams of an ideal partner, but we’ve grown to care about each other. I’d go as far as saying we like each other. We protect each other’s secrets. That’s huge, right? We are building something, slowly but surely, and I like what we’re creating. A lot.
The minute I step out of Vero’s office, I slip into the kitchen to call Leon with the news.
“Damn, darling,” he chuckles, his deep voice sending a delicious tingle down my spine. “You’re going places.”