Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I bought this a few weeks ago,” Gian says, walking toward the back of the house. I follow him, staring with my mouth hanging open.
“It’s incredible. But why?”
“I needed somewhere to live.”
“And you chose to live around the corner from me?”
He pauses when we reach the kitchen. It needs to be updated, but there are a few things I’ll keep, like that gorgeous cast-iron stove. Then again, I shouldn’t be thinking about renovating this place at all—we’re only here for a single year. This isn’t my forever home, and he’s not my forever husband.
Gian stares as he leans against the counter, fingers stroking down the stubble on his cheeks. I’m aware of his scrutiny and I move away from him, putting the room between us.
“I had a feeling I’d need this place,” he says as if that explains anything.
I stare at him. My heart’s racing. He looks back, lips parted, a cocky little smirk that drives me crazy. “Gian, why did you marry me?”
“To give you the chance you deserve.” He answers without hesitation.
I shake my head. “No, that’s not good enough. You bought a house around the corner from my family when we hadn’t even spoken in, like, ten years. For all you knew, I was going to tell you to fuck off.”
“I have a lot of money. It wasn’t really much of a risk.”
“You told your brother we’re in love.” I let that hang in the air. His head tilts and he looks amused. “You gave up Vegas. You built that entire business yourself, and you gave it up.”
“I would rather start over again than lose my brother. It was an easy trade.”
“But you wouldn’t have had to make that trade at all if you didn’t marry me. Why, Gian? What are you getting out of this?”
He pushes off the counter and steps closer. “Do you really want me to answer that question, tesorina?”
“I’m asking. Usually people want answers to questions they ask.”
“I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.”
“Don’t be so sure of yourself.”
He shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “I got you. That’s what I wanted.”
I bark a laugh at him. He doesn’t seem to like that. “Are you kidding me? Come on, don’t give me that crap. You ditched me ten years ago and we haven’t spoken since. What if you came home and I was totally different?”
“You’re not.”
“How do you know that?” Frustration wells up inside my stomach. “It’s been ten years. There’s no way I’m the same girl I was back in college, and you’re not the same man, so don’t pretend like this has anything to do with our history. What do you want, Gian?”
He steps toward me. I glance down at his body, lingering on his strong thighs. I lick my lips—the man really is a specimen—before pulling myself together.
“You really want to know what I want?” His voice is soft and dangerous, but his smile suggests he’s about to fuck with me.
“I want you to actually tell me instead of whatever you plan on doing.”
“I’ll tell you what I want, but only if you promise that you’ll sleep in my bed tonight.”
“I can’t tell if you’re kidding.” The thought of lying alone in a dark bed with this man causes both heart palpitations and a spike of frenzied desire down between my legs. It’s not a comfortable reaction.
“I’m very serious. I know you probably imagined our relationship as some marriage of convenience, right? Separate bedrooms, separate lives? But while I have you, I really want you. If you agree to my deal, I’ll give you what you want and tell you the truth.”
I clench my jaw. He’s smirking still like he knows I’m going to turn him down. And that’s what I want to do: there’s no way getting into bed with this man is a good idea. The rational part of me says I should back down and run away. Let him say whatever he’s going to say, but don’t get under the covers with a snake. They always bite.
“Fine,” I snap. “Now tell me.”
He walks closer. I can’t get further away since my back is to the wall at this point. My heart’s going haywire, beating right up into my throat, and that pleasant-but-also-maddening pulse between my legs keeps juddering a constant need. The guy’s sex incarnate, and even though all my old feelings for him are still jangling around in the back of my head, I can’t stop thinking about the plane, his mouth between my legs, that orgasm. My god, that orgasm. The best of my life, at least since the last time he got me off ten years earlier.
His lips part and he licks his tongue along his teeth. “I wasn’t lying when I said I want you.” His voice is soft and resonant. “But what I want the most is a legacy. I want a future. I want you to have my baby.”