Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
So much more.
She’s so tired when we head back, I send her upstairs to rest with half a dozen men guarding her, Tully at the lead.
“Come with me?” she asks me.
“Can’t, lass. I’ve got to work today. Wait for me, and rest. Spend some time looking over my bookshelves and entertaining yourself, and I’ll take you to dinner tonight.”
Taking her out to dinner will bring her in contact with a larger group of people and will give me a broader spectrum of people to observe.
“You take your captives to dinner?” she asks, her pretty, intelligent blue eyes teasing me. “Or just the pretty ones?”
“None of your cheek, lass,” I say, wagging a finger at her.
She giggles when I swat my hand at her arse and miss by a mile. I’m smiling when I shut the door behind her and leave my men to guard her. Tully raises a brow to me.
“Captive indeed,” he mutters, giving me a wink.
“Shut your pie hole,” I mutter, but I’m still smiling when I get to my office. I finish my work in record time, and stand, ready to go home.
My first thought is of Caitlin. How is she feeling after what she learned today? How did she entertain herself? Is she waiting for me?
How will she respond when I give her more than the slightest hint of a kiss?
When I weigh her perfect breasts in my hand, and brush my thumbs across her nipples?
When I make her climax for the first time?
“You’re a mile away.”
I blink, turning to see mam by the door.
“Yeah,” I say, with a shrug. “Thinking of work’s all.”
“The hell you are,” she says with a laugh. “I know the look of a man who’s got a pretty girl on his mind. Mind you, I learned how to put that look on a man’s face when I was a lass myself.”
I only grunt in reply, and don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s right.
“I need to talk with you,” I tell her. “But not now. Tonight?”
“Tonight,” she agrees.
I skip the steps two at a time, ignoring mam’s laughter and teasing behind me, and make it to my room in short time. My men are still standing out front, standing guard. I open the door, but when I enter, I don’t see her.
“Caitlin?” I call. “Where are you?” My room is large, with several nooks and crannies, but the only place she could be is the jacks. Panic wells in my chest when I don’t hear her.
“Caitlin?”
Did someone find their way in here? Is she alright?
“Caitlin!” I shout, trying to open the door, but it’s shut fast, the lock secured. “Caitlin! Open the damn door,” I say, pounding my fist on it. If she doesn’t answer in five fucking seconds, I’m knocking this goddamn door down. I kick the door and shout again, hearing the door behind me open and my guards come in the room when I hear something clatter to the floor. A moment later, the door opens. She’s got a towel wrapped around her, and behind her, a broken phone and headphones lie on the tile.
Christ, my heart’s coming out of my throat. I shield her with my body. No other fucking bloke’ll see her dressed—or not dressed, more like.
“Get out,” I growl to the guards over my shoulder. They fairly run and slam the door before I kill them.
I turn to her, ready to spit fucking fire. “What the hell?” I ask her.
She’s white as a sheet.
“What is it?” she asks. “Why are you so angry? What did I do?”
I gather her to me, my heart still thumping erratically in my chest. “Sweet girl,” I whisper, caught between wanting to hold her to me and turn her over my knee for scaring me. “Good God, you scared me. Why didn’t you answer me?”
“I couldn’t hear you,” she says. “Your mom taught me how to listen to music on headphones, and it’s been one of the most amazing things I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe I’ve gone this long and never even known what that sounded like. I… I had it turned up very loudly. It felt like I was there.” She sighs, looking at the floor. “It’s broken now, though.”
“I’ll replace it.”
“Why’d you panic so?”
How do I tell her? How do I explain that when you’ve seen death like me, both at your hands and before you, that when you’ve seen people you love and people you care about taken from your grasp before your very eyes, you don’t take anything for granted?
Nothing.
“Glad you’re alright,” I tell her, not answering. I realize the towel she’s got draped over her damp body is sliding down her body to the floor. She bites her lip and looks down but doesn’t try to stop the slithering towel from sliding down her body.