Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 98561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
My favorite thing about her was her hair. So black that even the few wisps that escaped her tight little bun were striking against her porcelain skin. I could tell just from looking at it that it was silky. I wanted to take one of those little wisps and stroke it gently between thumb and forefinger, savoring the feel of it, and then I’d slide my fingers into the tightly-drawn-back hair at the side of her head, burying them in its softness. There was something about the fact she wore it up: it went with the white coat and that unwavering professionalism. She was so damn buttoned up…it had taken everything I had to resist the urge to pull out her hair clips and let that whole bun just unwind, let all that soft hair spill down her back so I could run my hands through it, gather it up, and use it to gently guide her in for a kiss.
Come to think of it, maybe her lips were my favorite thing about her. Some women have these tight little pursed mouths, but Olivia had these full, wide lips…she didn’t seem to wear much makeup and her lips were this beautiful, delicate shade of pink. Sometimes, when I’d smiled at her, they’d twitched once, twice, before she smiled back, as if she wasn’t sure if she should or not, and it was adorable. A couple of times, I’d almost forgotten what I was going to say, watching those lips twitch. And I never do that. Then I’d glanced up and looked in her eyes and—
Her eyes. Wait, her eyes were my favorite thing about her. The irises were a very pale green, almost gray-green. They made me think of a frozen forest, the colors muted by frost but just ready to burst into life as soon as the sun hits it. Goddamn beautiful.
It was her curves, though, that sealed the deal. She had just the sort of body I loved. Full, heavy breasts. Flaring hips and an ass I could grab with both hands. An old-fashioned body. In fact, I knew exactly what she reminded me of. A few years before the gold heist, I’d stolen a couple of Pre-Raphaelite oil paintings from a castle in Switzerland. If you put Olivia in a filmy dress and let all that gorgeous hair hang loose down her back, she’d look exactly like one of the women in those paintings. And that milky, porcelain skin made me think about what she’d look like naked. Already I was imagining soft, pale breasts, the nipples that same delicate shade of pink as her lips… Yeah, her curves were definitely my favorite thing about her.
I guess I had a lot of favorite things about her.
It wasn’t just the physical stuff, either. She was so…good. You could tell she genuinely cared about her patients, even though we were a bunch of animals. She’d even taken the time to suture my wound so it wouldn’t scar: there were doctors on the outside who wouldn’t have been that careful. That goodness drew me in like nothing I’d ever experienced.
There was something else, too. She blushed a lot—and I loved making her blush—but there was something in the way she’d looked at me, in the way her breathing had quickened, when we got close. Behind all that buttoned-down professionalism and flushed cheeks, there was something raw and wild waiting to get out. A sexuality that would blow any man’s mind…it just needed to be unleashed.
I wanted to be the one to unleash it. When I did, I’d start making my way down the long, long list of filthy things I wanted to do to her and with her. As I grunted and pushed at the barbell, muscles burning, I thought about Olivia up against the wall of the infirmary, white coat and blouse hanging open, my hands cupping her breasts as I pounded between her thighs. Or Olivia on her back on my bunk, legs wrapped around me as I fucked her slow and deep. Or—especially easy to imagine, as I lay on the bench—Olivia riding me, grinding down onto me as I licked and sucked at her nipples.
What was weird was, there was another feeling running under that attraction. When I thought about how she’d reacted, each time I told her she was pretty, the way she’d ducked her head and hunched her shoulders…I got mad. This woman had been overlooked by the idiots on the outside, made to feel like nothing just because she didn’t fit some super-skinny ideal. I wanted to find those men and beat seven shades of hell out of them.
I wanted to fuck her. But I wanted to protect her, too.
I frowned and pushed the bar up to the sky again. What the hell was someone like Olivia doing in this hellhole, anyway? She was too innocent, too soft, for a place like this. Silky, soft hair, those pale, soft curves, even her voice was soft and calming. Something must have happened, for her to wind up here. I couldn’t understand why she’d stay, or how she’d managed to tough it out.