Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
My face burns, and my heart races.
I pivot away from him. But from behind me, I can hear his steps as he approaches. Then he’s right upon me, caging me in against the counter.
My back is to his front, and if I take a step back, I’d feel the hard planes of his chest.
“Turn around, firefly.” I shake my head. “Don’t hide from me. You never have to hide from me.”
Slowly, I do as he’s asked and turn around.
“Good girl.” My knees wobble at his words, and his eyes sparkle at my reaction. “That wasn’t so hard, right?”
“No.” I meet his gaze. “It wasn’t.”
He runs his fingers up the nape of my neck, and then they bracket around me tighter as he pulls me toward him.
Our lips meet, the force brutal. Primal.
It tastes like sin. Of all the things I shouldn’t want but can’t help but crave, it’s his kiss. Yet I do. So much.
I’m enraptured by this man, desperate for him, and as bad as an idea this is, I can’t find it in me to care.
Arms wrap around each other’s bodies, tongues fighting a wicked dance. I’m lost to this man, but that’s when a sound cuts through the lust. A man clears his throat, and I go still.
Gideon breaks the kiss, stepping away and blowing out a harsh breath. “No interruptions.” His voice echoes around the kitchen, angry and impatient.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but it can’t wait,” the man says from the doorway.
“Fine. Two minutes. Lower level.” When the man leaves, Gideon leans in. I think he’s actually going to kiss me again, but he leans around me and grabs the sandwich.
My sandwich, the sandwich he teased me over.
He lifts it to his mouth, smirking.
“Hey, that’s mine,” I whine.
“And that is the very reason I want it, firefly.” He winks before setting off to meet his men.
Leaving me equal measures of hungry and wanting.
34
SASHA
Hours later, I’m sitting in Gideon’s home theater, doing something I rarely get to do…relaxing. Ever since I’ve been living in his house, it has reminded me of the little pleasures I’ve been missing out on in the pursuit of my dream to attend Juilliard. If I’m not playing or sleeping, I’m usually working.
I’ve missed the luxury of watching movies and lying around.
This room is like every other room in this manor…incredible. It’s like nothing I have ever seen before. Despite the many times I’ve been here, the ambience never gets old.
The walls are painted a dark blue, which just helps me settle in to winding down and relaxing. On the ceiling are twinkling stars that make me feel like I’m sitting under the night sky.
I’m so enthralled with my surroundings that I almost miss it when Gideon walks into the room. He looks over at me, where I’m sitting in the reclining theater chair, and I meet his stare, melting as his big, blue eyes lock with mine.
“Hey,” I say as he walks closer to me. Stalking like the predator he likes to play at.
“Watching anything good?” His voice is casual. At this moment, we are two normal people having a mundane conversation. We’re boring, and I love it.
Shrugging my shoulders, I turn back to the movie. I’m not really watching it. More like I’m trying to get my breathing to calm down. The moment he walked into the room, the oxygen was snuffed out, and I’m left practically gasping for air.
Gideon sits down in the chair beside me, and for a few seconds, we stay in silence. Then the air goes heavy around us. It reminds me of a rubber band being pulled taut; it’s only moments before it will snap. I can feel the tension between us growing with each passing second. It’s like there’s something he wants to say, or maybe it’s me who wants to say something.
“You played beautifully the other night. I don’t remember if I ever said anything,” he says softly, his eyes searching mine.
I turn my gaze back to the movie. “You did.”
“Next time, we might have to fill in those seats.” There is a teasing note in his voice now, but my eyes snap back to him.
“Um, no,” I retort, making him chuckle.
“I thought your dream was to play at Lincoln Center in front of a crowd?”
“It is, but—” I begin, but stop myself.
“But what?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Gideon reaches across the space until his hand touches my cheek. “You know.” He doesn’t press, and for that, I’m grateful. But he continues with a new line of questioning. “Before Lincoln Center, you had other dreams. What were they?”
“Depends on who you ask. The nine-year-old Sasha. Or the fourteen-year-old. Or maybe the nineteen-year-old. All different dreams.”
He grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Tell me all of them.”
“Nine-year-old Sasha had sweet dreams.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “She dreamed of learning to bake. Of traveling the world. Or going to college and playing cello.”