Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
I felt as if I existed in a booby-trapped battleground. One wrong move and something would snap and kill me. I tried to swallow but had no lubrication in my throat—it had all drained below to throb between my legs.
I’d never been so turned on.
You think.
I shouldn’t be doing this!
You won’t stop.
“I won’t tell you again, sweetheart. Get on the bed.” His voice was dark and full of gravel. My eyes dropped to his jeans. He was rock hard—just like he’d been while pushing against me in the store.
God, help me.
What if I’m a virgin, not on the pill, married?
I shoved those thoughts away, moving faster toward the bed. The closer I got, the heavier Kill breathed.
I bit my lip as the bed brushed against my legs. Instantly, Kill pushed off from the door, prowling toward me.
With a powerful shrug, he discarded his leather cut, letting it puddle against the charcoal carpet. In another step, he reached down and tugged off one large boot, then the other.
His jaw twitched as he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and ripped it over his head, hissing between his teeth as his stitches pulled, but he never stopped closing the distance between us.
A spiral of lust shot through my system as I gawked at his cut muscles, the smoothness of his skin, and the dark happy trail disappearing into his jeans. His freshly stitched scar looked red and puffy. Panic filled me at the thought of infection.
My heart raced to slow down the monstrous wave of animalistic need. “I should really tend to that.”
He shook his head, his eyes hooded. “You’re tending to something a lot more important.” Only a yard separated us, his body heat singeing me even from that distance.
My stomach twisted, sending sparks through my body.
“Take off the dress,” he murmured. My fingertips brushed the silver maxi he’d bought me at the store. After our kiss, he’d bundled everything into a pile, dragged me from the changing room, thrown some money at the clerk, and stolen me away on his motorbike.
With fluttering heartbeats, I gathered the material at my shoulders and shimmied out of the soft dress. It pooled around my ankles, leaving me exposed in the buttercup-yellow lingerie.
He tensed, his stomach tightening so every ridge of him stood out with chiseled male perfection.
“Christ, you’re beautiful.”
A moan built in my chest. He’d barely whispered, only breathed the words, but it made me feel like the most powerful woman alive. He didn’t look at my scars. He didn’t see the strange mix of inked beauty and burned ugliness. He just saw me.
I’m not lacking.
“Yellow suits you.” His eyes shadowed with pain.
“Come on… let me call you it, too.”
I shook my head, planting my fists on my hips. “Nope. Only he can call me that. You call me Sagittarius. My dad calls me Buttercup—that’s how it works.”
He pounced on me, wrapping his arms around my waist and plucking me effortlessly from the floor. “But you’re my sunshine. You glow in yellow. I want to—”
I squealed as his hands tickled me and the rest of the argument of my nickname dissolved in favor of kisses.
I blinked, dispelling the memory.
“What’s another word for yellow?” I breathed, willing, hoping, praying I could trip him up. What if the grave of a girl who still had his heart was false? What if she was me?
I didn’t care I spoke differently or he said the girl in his past wasn’t scarred or inked. Things changed. Life took familiarity and often turned it foreign.
There were too many coincidences. Too many pieces slotting together inside my head.
Kill froze, his large hands pausing on his belt buckle. “What?” His nostrils flared and anger—bright and blistering—stole the erotic nature of his glare.
His hands dropped from his belt. “Explain what the fuck you meant by that.”
No! I felt him withdrawing, his soul lurching faster and faster out of reach.
I shot away from the bed, darting to his side.
His eyes tightened and every muscle in his body went rigid.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry—forget I said anything.”
He breathed hard, his chest rising with a heavy inhale. He didn’t say a word, searching my eyes.
“Please, Killian. I want you to kiss me again.”
Kiss me like you did. Forget the past.
The intensity between us sparked again like smoldering tinder. I flushed. I shivered. My body didn’t know if it should be hot or cold, embarrassed or confident.
He didn’t touch me.
Only watched.
Finally, never breaking eye contact, he undid his large belt and unzipped his jeans with steady hands. His pectoral muscles twitched as he pushed at his hips and discarded the denim with one shove.
My mouth went bone-dry. I couldn’t stop looking at the silver scars from past injuries, or the bright red one that gave him a reason to let me into his very private world. I was under no illusion that I’d been granted an exclusive pass and not one that I wanted to ruin.