Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 65862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“What day is it?” she asks, looking around for a clock. When she finds it above the stove her eyebrows do that confused thing again and it’s so adorable it’s an effort not to reach out and rub them until the worry is gone. “It’s nine, but that can’t be right.”
“It’s nine p.m.”
“How long did I sleep for? Did you…” She starts to ask something then shakes her head and changes it. “When did you bring me here?”
“I met you outside the gallery around midnight.” I don’t mention the part where I drugged her. “You slept all day yesterday and today. I was beginning to get worried.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
The tea kettle begins to whistle and saves me from having to answer right away. I knew these questions would come, I was just hoping to have some more time before they began.
“What kind of tea would you like?” I ask as I get the cups and saucers.
“Whatever you have is fine,” she says and shrugs one shoulder.
I turn around from the cabinet and place the cups on the counter before I go back over and kneel down in front of her again.
“You can have anything you want. Do you understand me? This is a safe place where you can have your heart’s desire. This is a lot to take in, but I want you to know one thing is always certain. If you want it, you can have it. All you have to do is say the word.”
I reach out and touch her chin before I stand up and go back over to the cups. “Now, Cricket, what kind of tea would you like?”
“Do you have anything with orange blossom?” she says and bites her lip again. She’s not used to asking for what she wants, but she’s about to get a crash course.
“I do,” I say, grabbing some and pouring us each a cup.
I go to the refrigerator and grab the milk then set it all on a tray and bring it over to her. I serve her, even adding sugar to her tea before I stir it and set it in front of her.
“There, drink up.”
My eyes are locked on her mouth as her full lips part and she takes a drink of the tea. Her cheeks are pink, and she looks away when she notices I’m watching her. I should stop, but I can’t help myself. Having her this close is surreal. I feel like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Was I hysterical?” she asks, and now it’s my turn to be confused. “Is that why I passed out in your arms? I mean, thank you for taking care of me, but I should probably go soon. I was just wondering if somehow I had a panic attack.”
I lean back in my chair and watch her for a second before I answer. She isn’t going anywhere. She’s fidgeting with the sleeves of my shirt, and I can see there’s a nervousness there at what I’m going to say.
“You were upset when you left the gallery,” I say, answering very carefully. I hate that she had to go through that, but I also hate that she cared so much for another man. “But before I answer anything more, I want you to understand that you’re not leaving, Blair.” There, I put it out on the table. I try to keep my demeanor calm and unthreatening. I’d never hurt her.
“What?” She sets her teacup down in the saucer and there’s a bit of a rattle to it. “What do you mean I can’t leave?” She looks like she can’t even process the words.
I sit forward, bringing my body closer to hers. “It was no accident I was there when you ran out of the gallery.”
“Ryker.” She whispers my name, and it calls to something dark inside me.
“I made sure I was there, because I’ve been watching you.”
“You’re scaring me,” she says, and though I don’t see fear in her eyes, she’s definitely nervous.
“I won’t ever hurt what belongs to me,” I say, reaching out and tracing a finger down her neck along the necklace I placed on her. “You’ve never noticed what’s right in front of you. All this time I’ve been there, waiting.”
Her breath catches as my finger touches her collarbone and then begins to trail lower.
“My little cricket,” I say as my finger slowly moves to the space between her breasts.
“Why do you call me that?” Her voice is barely a whisper now.
“Because growing up, the sweetest sound in the world was at night. I always thought the crickets came out and played their songs just for me until I fell asleep.” I look up into her hazel eyes, and the gold in them is twinkling. “The first time I heard your voice, I knew that I’d never sleep again. Not until I had you in my bed.”