Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Should I have kissed him?” I murmur.
Archie whines and yawns, rising to his feet with perfect timing. I’ve just completed the sketch, deciding to forgo the rug and pretend he was lying in the garden instead. He pads over to me, staring up, mouth open in that classic smile of his.
“What do you think, hmm?”
Archie sits and nuzzles my leg with his head.
“You’re exhausted, aren’t you? I’m so sorry.”
I’ve lost count of the times I’ve said that to him, but it doesn’t feel like enough. I could say it a thousand times, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
Over and over, I replay the moment he leaped into the pond. I’ve showered and changed since then, but I still feel the water in my hair and throat. I still feel the pain of not knowing if I led to this sweet doggie’s end. Archie suddenly runs to the front window, yapping, so he can’t be that ill and tired.
“What is it, boy?”
But I already know. A few guards have changed shifts today, and Archie hasn’t reacted like this. Now, he’s in overdrive, yapping in excitement. Blake must be home. I stand and brush my outfit down, even as I tell myself I don’t have to impress him. I turned away when he tried to kiss me for a reason.
He’s hiding a secret about him and Mom and Dad, so I should be mean and distant until he tells me the truth, but when I think about kissing him, my lust triggers.
It’s more than lust, too. It’s this feeling of belonging, this tickling within, that tells me with Blake, I don’t have to question if I have a place, never have to wonder if I could be his.
He’s made it simple. He told me I was his. Sure, he imprisoned and kidnapped me, but it doesn’t feel like that.
Maybe that’s why I quickly sign my name in the corner of the picture and take it into the hallway. I wait at the door, Blake pushing it open, looking sleek and strong in his pale shirt. The top buttons are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up, every inch of him firm and tempting.
He flashes a look at me. At first, I think he’s going to snap, but then he kneels and greets Archie. The dog has his energy back, yapping and running in circles, but then he loses interest and lopes toward the living room.
“Is that normal for him?” I ask, anxiously gripping the sketch.
I’ve got to be careful, or I’ll end up tearing the paper.
“No,” Blake says, walking toward me, “but he seems okay. By tomorrow, it’ll be like it never happened. What’s that?”
He speaks in clipped sentences as if he’s holding something back.
“I used the set you bought for me.”
“Let me see,” he says, reaching his hand out.
I know why he’s doing this. Because I refused to kiss him… and fine, we’ll let it be this way. We’ll let the tension exist between us until he tells me the truth. I’m not weak. I’m not tempted by his lips, the memory of his touch, or the need to smooth over this conflict and find a place of warmth again.
Yeah, right…
Our hands touch as I hand him the paper. That familiar yet crazily enchanting electricity burns up my arm and sizzles through me, willing me into his embrace.
“This is incredible,” he says, sudden husky emotion entering his voice. “When you said you sketched… this is next level, Bonnie. This is truly excellent. I can’t even… this… can I keep this?”
I study him as pride whelms within me, wondering if he may be faking his reaction, but he seems genuine.
When I nod, his lips twitch, a gift of a smirk.
“Thank you,” he says. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No.”
“Can we share a meal… or would that break one of your rules?”
“I’m not the one keeping secrets,” I snap.
He laughs gruffly, pushing past me. “Meet me in the kitchen if you change your mind.”
I watch him go, studying the tautness of his back, his arms triggering a need in me—the need to fall into them and feel them wrapped protectively around me.
Archie follows Blake around the corner, out of sight.
It’s like we’ve never kissed. Like he’s never told me I belong to him. He never said he hasn’t dated, implying he only wants me. None of this magic has happened. None of this closeness.
With a sigh, I decide to head to my bedroom. I want him badly, but I can’t let him treat me this way, as if I’m a dog too, and he can command me any way he wants.
I yell when Blake comes running down the hallway with Archie at his feet. He’s like a different man from the one who just left me. There’s something like rage in his eyes, flaring as he gazes down at me.