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)
Being this close. Both of us mostly naked. In bed.
It was a dream. A nightmare. A fantasy all come true.
The jacket was cumbersome on my frame. The cuffs hanging over my hands. I wouldn’t be able to do something as delicate as remove stitches while fighting the dense material. It had to come off… only, I had nothing on underneath.
It doesn’t matter.
He’d seen me naked. He’d been inside me.
So why do I feel so shy and vulnerable?
Forcing myself to be brave, I shrugged out of his jacket, and placed it gently at the foot of the bed. “Thank you for letting me wear it.”
Kill’s nostrils flared as he forced himself to continue staring at the ceiling. I knew he’d be able to see I was naked but he nodded curtly. “Only old ladies and members ever get the privilege.”
“Then why did you let me wear it?”
His head turned to face me; his eyes stayed locked above my collarbone. “Take my stitches out.”
Pain lashed through my heart. The rage he constantly carried glittered in his eyes, dampening the small amount of trust we’d formed. The tiny edge of vulnerability was gone. Disappeared, or hidden.
“Kill… don’t. Please don’t shut me out.”
He clenched his jaw. “I’m—I’m not doing it intentionally. It’s just…” His gaze softened and he reached for me before dropping his hand deliberately to the covers. “Give me more time. It’s not easy. I’m so used to blocking people. So used to being a bastard to protect myself.” His lips twitched into an apologetic smirk. “It’s not easy to break a habit.” His voice trailed to a whisper. “I still can’t believe this is happening. That you’re—you. And here. Alive.”
My hands shook, holding the scissors and tweezers. Questions hurled themselves at my brain, bombarding me with eagerness.
Forcing the urgency away, I smiled softly and bent over his scar. “The minute these stitches are out, we’re talking. No more excuses.”
He nodded.
Praying my hands were steady enough, I carefully snipped at the twine holding his flesh together. Concentrating so hard on one thing gave me freedom from the chaos in my brain and I lost myself in the task, leaning lower, permitting myself to be quiet and not ask questions—to just… be.
It didn’t take long to remove. As I snipped the last stitch, Arthur tensed. His breathing changed and I looked up.
His eyes were riveted on my inked nipple. His bottom lip clamped between his teeth and his belly rippled with tension.
My heart instantly thundered in my ears. All excuses were gone. I wanted to dance with joy. I wanted to throw up with fear.
I’m afraid of him.
Afraid of what he could do to me—not physically but emotionally. If he was the boy from my past, he already owned my heart. What would happen when he owned my memories and mind, too? How safe would I be? What did it mean for my future?
Kill groaned low in his throat. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
His confession tilted my world. I never thought I’d hear such lostness in his voice.
I shook my head, my body heavy and throbbing. “What are you doing to me?” Tears came to my eyes. “Please… tell me. You saw something. On the yacht—you saw something to make you believe. I need to know.”
He squeezed his eyes, his lips pressing tight together. “Don’t. I know I said we’d talk, but—”
“No. You can’t pull away again. It isn’t fair for either of us.”
I drowned in his green gaze as he tore his eyes open. He wedged his elbows behind him, sitting up. “You said your name is Sarah. That’s a lie. How does any of that make sense?” The way he said my name was a curse. A horror-laden curse reeking of his need to find a flaw in my whole argument so he didn’t have to pick up the pieces of his shattered world.
“I don’t know. I thought my name was Sarah. It fits. It feels… familiar. I didn’t lie about that.” My eyes desperately wanted to look down where my peripheral vision teased with his thickening erection.
“I’m not saying you lied,” he growled. “I’m just saying… Fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying.”
Suddenly, he moved, grabbing my waist and hauling me on top of him. “You’re giving me a heart attack. Sitting there naked. Healing me. The girl I’ve loved since I was fucking eight years old. It’s so hard to shed a lifetime of belief.”
I had no response. Every muscle tensed, sprawled over his bulk. “You did love me, even though you were sixteen before I managed to make you kiss me.”
His eyes shot wide and a strangled gasp came from his lips. “Fuck.” Grabbing the nape of my neck, he kissed me hard. His tongue licked my lips, not seeking entry, just wanting to taste.
Pulling away, he said, “You remember? Those nights we spent together? The endless homework sessions?” He swallowed hard. “That night you snuck into my room and climbed into bed with me? Fucking hell, that was the hardest thing of my life turning you away.”