Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
I hate how zoned out she is. Whatever her past holds, I intend on shaking it out so I can inspect it. Someone hurt her. And I will hurt that someone.
It isn’t until after I’ve ordered our food and drinks that she seems to snap out of it. Her hand tries to pull from mine, but I grip it.
“You’re okay,” I assure her and give her hand a squeeze. “You’re safe now.”
Her eyes dart to mine and her cheeks blaze red. “Oh my God. I am so sorry for that.”
“Panic attack?”
She bites on her bottom lip and shrugs. “Something like that.”
I let out a heavy sigh and reach forward for a tortilla chip. “Friends open up to one another.”
This time, she’s the one letting out a heavy breath. “Some things are better left locked up in the past. Some monsters belong there.”
I’ll free her monsters.
Because once they’re free, I can find them and kill them.
“What’s his name?” I probe.
She shudders and jerks her hand from my grasp. “He was nobody.”
“He was somebody. I have a sneaking suspicion he’s the reason you go to great lengths to protect yourself. That shitty cash-only apartment is one of those ways.”
Her body stiffens. “Vaughn.”
The name on her lips is like ice. Cold and bitter. Whoever this Vaughn fucker is has hurt her badly. I need to know how he hurt her so I can fix it.
“Was he your boyfriend?”
She darts her head toward the rest of the restaurant and skims the growing lunch crowd as if she’s searching for someone. When she doesn’t find said person, her body relaxes.
“Ex, yeah. Things didn’t go well toward the end.”
I want to ask her more but don’t want to sour our date. “Do you have any family?”
My sudden change of subject has her jerking her head up. Tears swim in her eyes and her bottom lip quivers. “My mom.”
I smile at her. “Feel free to elaborate.”
She smirks, and I’m glad to see her mood lighten. “She gave birth to me.”
“Smartass,” I growl.
A cute laugh escapes her. She grabs for a chip and shrugs again. “I don’t know. She’s just Mom. Works at a diner back home. I love her and miss her dearly. Haven’t seen or spoken to her in years.”
“Did you have a falling out?” I probe.
She bites the chip and shakes her head. “More complicated than that. I just wanted her to be happy. And with me”—she sighs—“it was impossible.”
I can tell she doesn’t want to talk about it because she starts babbling about some real estate news she read about this morning in the paper. I focus on her face. A storm brews in her brown eyes, but she keeps it at bay, her face a picture of calm. Those juicy lips move rapidly as she speaks, and I want them. All over my body. Between my teeth especially.
My gaze drops to her slender throat. I imagine suckling the flesh there and turning the cream to crimson. Would she pant softly or moan my name? My cock throbs in my pants. One day I will have her. But my Violet is like a frightened stray. I need to feed her with affection and gain her trust before I slap a collar on her and declare her mine.
“So what does Gwen do for a living?”
I jolt from my daze and scowl. “She’s an artist.”
Her brown eyes light up with excitement. “Really? That’s amazing.”
I down my water glass to keep the violent words from spewing. “Yep,” is all I manage.
“Now look who’s being vague and strange,” she admonishes softly. When her palm rests on my thigh, I stiffen. Everywhere.
I turn to look at her, and she stares at me with an expectant look. “Gwen has issues.”
She frowns, and I like the way her forehead crinkles between her brows. It makes me want to rub the wrinkles away with my thumb until it’s smooth again so I can kiss it.
“Feel free to elaborate,” she throws back at me with a smirk.
“She’s a lot like our mother. Mom is clinically depressed.” And clinically insane. “The depression bleeds into all aspects of her life.”
Her eyes dart over my face in confusion. “But she’s so sweet and…” Her nostrils flare. “Normal.”
A harsh laugh escapes me. “Is she?”
We’re silent for a moment before I rest my hand on hers that still sits on my thigh. “She’s on one of her highs right now. The lows are dark and abysmal and fucking scary.”
Understanding flashes in her eyes. “I suffered from depression years ago.”
I quirk up a brow and my full attention is back on her. Her cheeks and throat have turned pink again. “After him?” I ask.
She gives me a clipped nod before turning her head back to the increasingly crowded restaurant. Her gaze sweeps the room for a moment before she looks down at her lap. “He did a number on me.”