Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Even his threat of torture sent a wave of longing through my core.
“I’m not interested in whatever serial killer games you like to play.”
His hand lingered against my hip. “I don’t play games. I’ll tease you, but it’s not a game to me.”
“Why don’t you just take me home if you don’t trust me? That’ll be easier for both of us.”
“Because I haven’t had my fill of you yet.”
I stared into his eyes then looked at his lips and god, his fill of me, his fill, like he was hungry and I was the real treat here, I was the meal, the dessert, the everything. I tilted my chin up and my lips opened and I wanted it, god I wanted it, as he came closer, his breath warm, his smell encompassing and intense and heady, and I was dizzy then he pressed his lips against mine, and dizzier still when I shoved myself hard against him and let his lips take mine.
His hands wrapped around my back and pressed me against his hard body.
My skin reacted like lightning, like I stuck my tongue in an electric socket. He nibbled my lower lip, teased my tongue, invaded my mouth. His kiss took me, even if I wanted to resist at the same time, if all my warning bells were ringing, the sirens screaming, every inch of me saying I should run, this man was a predator, a killer, and he just threatened to hurt me if I lied to him—
And I still returned that kiss with a shocking desire.
Shocking, because I hadn’t experienced anything like it in a long time.
I denied myself this pleasure. I was like a monk on a mountainside living a life of acetic religious fervor. I didn’t believe I could have physical pleasure anymore, not after that man—
The knife sliding across my belly and hot blood dripping from between my fingers as I screamed in agony—
The memory was a thunderbolt in my skull. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me. I was his, Roman’s thing, and he kept me pinned against him, his mouth moving on mine, his tongue teasing me back to life, that kiss, his taste, his arms, everything about him drawing me back from that horrible memory and into the present moment, into this kiss.
He took me like I was his to taste and it felt so good I nearly forgot who I was.
For one long moment, my past blanked out, all that anxiety and uncertainty, it disappeared, and there was only Roman.
He bit my lower lip hard before pulling back.
“What happened to you there?” he whispered, his forehead against mine. “You almost stopped me.”
“I’m sorry, I just—“ I closed my eyes. “I haven’t been intimate with anyone in a long time.”
“Intimate.” He moved back, tilted my chin up. I met his gaze.
It burned into me with a hot desire that made my feet go numb.
He said, “Is that what you think we are? Intimate?”
I shook my head, the barest of motion. “I don’t know what we are.”
“We haven’t begun to get intimate, my kukolka.”
“You keep using that word. What does it mean?”
A wicked smile. I was beginning to see that his grins meant both pleasure and pain for me. “Ask someone else.” And he released me then like he was ripping his hands from ice. “I have an appointment. I trust you can amuse yourself for a while?”
His harsh attitude knocked me back to earth—a little bit, at least.
“I think I can handle that.”
“Good. Don’t get into trouble. If a door’s locked then it’s off limits.” He turned and strode away. I watched him go and when he disappeared around a corner, I sank back onto a couch like I was melting into a lake.
What was wrong with that man?
And why the hell did I like it?
I thought it’d been a long time since I felt anything like that level of need and sinful want deep in my core—
But no, that wasn’t right.
I’d never, ever felt anything like it.
Not remotely close.
Not before that incident, and definitely not since.
Winter would be proud of me.
If I could even tell her.
I sighed, stretched like a cat, and wondered exactly how Roman would punish me if he knew that I told my best friend all about him.
10
Cassie
The heady rush of that kiss slowly dissipated as the hours dragged past and I was left all alone.
The novelty of the rich bunker quickly wore off.
I was very aware of being underground.
Swallowed. Buried.
The air was recycled. The place hummed constantly, even with all the appliances turned off—the air conditioning system ran all the time, bringing fresh air in and pulling old air out.
It smelled like pine needles and the bite of plastic left in the hot sun for too long.
I lounged around the living room for a while. I flipped through the TV—of course he got all the channels, why wouldn’t a bunker need absolutely everything, at least you should enjoy the apocalypse—but got tired of that. I drifted back to my room, looked at the closet, took a shower, tried on some clothes, and eventually settled into a pair of tight Lululemon Yoga Pants and a pale white Gucci crop top—about as basic as it got, but whatever. I finished the ensemble with a pair of white Crocs.