Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
He's right. He isn't. His cock is as impressive as the house. And the house? Jesus. I could fit five of mine inside of it and still get lost.
The creamy white limestone mansion stands like a freaking monolith in the dark, the sconces placed at intervals all along the front, lighting it up like a beacon. Towering Corinthian columns flank the entrance, supporting an ornate triangular gable with freaking gargoyles carved into it.
Massive windows stand at almost militaristic intervals on each of the three levels, the glass dark. Lush ivy clings to the walls, the green tendrils a striking contrast to the pale stone.
It's not at all what I would have expected, and perhaps that's why it suits him so well. A giant Roman mansion in the middle of Texas? It's as unexpectedly, ridiculously perfect as everything else about him.
"Why a mansion?" I ask as he pulls up to the doors and parks. "Why not a normal people house?"
"Out of spite." He kills the engine.
I stop gaping at the house to gape at him. "You're serious."
He shrugs. "I had something smaller in mind. The town council rejected the plans. They weren't sold on the use of so much limestone. It's harder to maintain than sandstone. So I said to hell with them, had the plans redrawn, and built it bigger."
I cover my mouth, fighting laughter. "You did not."
He arches a brow. "You're sitting in front of the house. I definitely did, unicorn. They were mad as hell. Why do you think I have a ten-foot fence? It was the first damn thing I had the construction company install."
"Are they still mad?"
"Nah. Took a few donations to re-election campaigns to get them off my ass, but they gave up eventually."
"You are a wicked, wicked man, Drake Whitlock," I say through laughter.
He grins at me, completely unrepentant, and then unlatches my seatbelt, practically hauling me across the console into his arms.
"You fucking love how wicked I am, unicorn," he growls, palming my ass with one hand as he pushes the door open with the other.
He's right. I do love it. Nothing about this man is expected. He's the most gorgeous, uncouth billionaire I've ever met, somehow both adorably sweet, awkward as hell, and irresistibly charming at the same damn time. It's a deadly combination. Especially paired with those eyes, that smile, and the way he looks at me like I'm the most incredible thing he's ever seen.
Do not fall in love with him. Do not fall in love with him. Do not fall in love with him, I remind myself. Except…I'm pretty sure I've already started falling. I think I started falling hours ago.
Love spells and Halloween magic aren't supposed to be real. But with his arms around me as he carries me toward his ridiculous built-out-of-spite mansion, they feel a little too real.
"You're awfully quiet," he murmurs as he punches in the code for the front door.
"Mmhmm. I'm thinking about the bodies in your basement."
"I don't have bodies in the basement, unicorn." He squeezes my ass cheek. "I have sacrifices in the dungeon."
My gaze flies to his, my eyes narrowing on him. "I'm not sure which is more alarming. The fact that I can't tell if you're serious…or the fact that I wouldn't be surprised if you were."
He smirks, hauling me closer to him as he carries me inside. With the lights off, I can't see much—just marble floors, the shape of furniture, and a sense of massiveness, as if this entire area is cavernous. It doesn't feel overwhelming or empty, though. There's a calmness and comfort to it that I immediately like. It feels like him, like home.
When he flips on the light, that feeling doesn't diminish. What I can see of the house is absolutely stunning. Deep, comfortable furniture nestles on white marble floors and fluffy rugs. Roman-inspired artwork adorns the walls. The banister of the grand staircase and the cornices have ornate scrollwork carved into them.
There are plants in planters situated around the room, bright, colorful blooms filling the space with an exotic, floral scent. I immediately fall in love with his place. It's not sad and lonely, but lived in and comfortable, as if he truly enjoys being here. His personality is everywhere—from the stack of notebooks on the edge of the coffee table to the tie draped over the edge of the banister.
"You know damn well there isn't a dungeon here."
I glance back at him in time to see his gaze settle on my lips.
His eyes heat and darken. "Yet."
"Yet?"
His lips brush mine before his tongue follows the same path, sending my thoughts scattering.
"Yet," he breathes. "Maybe I'll change my mind and build one for you." His hand sinks into my hair, craning my head back. My entire body reacts, pleasurable chills racing through me. "Fill it with all kinds of toys to torture you with so you're coming all over my fucking cock day and night."