Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Which is probably why I’d attacked her the minute the door was closed. Giving in to the thing I told myself I wouldn’t under any circumstances.
Any other circumstance but her.
But it wasn’t my plan to—fuck it, I didn’t have any plan. When I saw her tonight, chatting with her abrasive little friend, I told myself I had a handle on things. That we could have a drink together and dance around the attraction between us a little more. I was willing to be the masochist she’s made me. I was even willing to ignore how I’d confessed to dreaming about her, dreamed of fucking her almost nightly. But I’d also dreamed of other things. Of waking to her in my bed. Of permanency. Of longevity. Foolish, pointless dreams. And not because I risk losing my best friend.
It’s been three weeks since I’d seen her, and I have no idea how, in such a short span of time, she’s become so vital to me. Having her close seemed like torture, but not being near her has been infinitely worse. So seeing her tonight seemed like the answer to a prayer I hadn’t sought. But then Sergei had returned without her.
“Plenty of other pussy in the sea,” he’d muttered, mangling the idiom.
But I didn’t want other pussy because I wasn’t planning on having hers. She isn’t mine to own or command, but Jesus Christ, I’d replaced her dead childhood puppy. Didn’t I at least deserve a thanks? And I’d take that thanks however she saw fit to issue it. A drink together. A little sparring. Flirting with her might be my own personal form of self-flagellation, but I’d fucking take it.
And then I saw her dancing with that prick. His hands on her. Her smiling over her shoulder, flirting with him. I’d felt fucking unhinged. I hadn’t felt that since … well, since the last time I’d seen her in someone else’s arms.
And look at how that turned out.
Just the sight of them, the thought he could’ve tasted what I realized I considered mine. It made me want to obliterate the memory of any other man she’d ever touched. It made me want to fuck her so hard and so well, I’d become her drug of choice. It was a moment of clarity, the blinds falling away, showing me the situation for what it truly is. I wasn’t trying not to fuck her out of deference to my friend. I was trying not to fall for her. Trying to keep her from the poison of my life. But when that door closed behind us, it was already too late.
I’m willing to ruin my friendship with her brother.
I’m willing to ruin her.
In front of me, Isla smooths her dress down her thighs, pulling at the hem. “Yes, unnecessary. The caveman thing.”
“Unsophisticated thoughts produce primitive actions.”
“Like spanking me, you mean.”
“Some would say primitive. Others would say fun.”
Her gaze flits away and I watch her examine the manager’s office. The dark wooden paneling and the oversized captain’s desk. A burgundy velvet sofa littered with an array of jewel-colored cushions. It seems quite opulent for the manager of a nightclub, but it’s the little things that prevent the attrition of employees. I value loyalty and repay it well.
“You could’ve just asked me to come with you,” she says, her attention coming back. Her fingers begin to fidget by her side, though she forces them to still.
“But I did ask, Peanut.” I take a step toward her, and she instinctively takes one back. “And you declined my invitation.”
“I—”
“Sent me a message?” Another prowling step, and like a tiger shedding his stripes, I strip off my jacket, tossing it to the sofa without breaking my stride. “I got your message loud and clear. Come get me yourself. Isn’t that what I just did?”
“It was hardly—” I know what she’s going to say before the word falls out of her mouth.
“I think it’s time to try another flavor because polite doesn’t seem to be working out for you and me.”
“What happened to what you said before? About being friends?”
My footsteps halt. I drop my head for a beat, stubble rasping against my fingers as I rub my hand over my chin. “You brought this on yourself,” I eventually reply, lifting my gaze but not my head.
“Me?”
“I warned you I wasn’t a nice man.”
“Well, I’m not nice either.” Her gaze darts away and she bites her lip. “Just now, when you kissed me, it occurred to me that my whole life I’ve played second fiddle to Sandy. The son. The duke. The one who must be obeyed.” The latter I’m sure she means ironically. Her brother has no more authority over her than I have. “This might be my idea of rebelling the status quo, forcing you to choose me and damn the consequences. But that’s wrong, isn’t it?” she whispers, her gaze coming back. “Because I’m not the one who’ll have to bear the cost. I’m not the one who’ll lose a friend.”