Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
“You’re not hidin’. Or runnin’. Not now. Not ever again,” he said by way of explanation. Although not just an explanation.
A promise.
“I wasn’t hiding. I was working,” I corrected. “And those sunglasses complete an outfit.” I gestured to my black dress and blush shoes that laced up my calves, and now stained with blood.
A glimmer of hunger reflected in the light as Keltan took in the outfit.
That glimmer was all my panties needed to dampen despite everything else.
“And I’m not running,” I continued, my voice thicker than before. “The man who stalked and then accosted me in my parking lot has seen to that.”
He watched me in that way he had that had ruined me before. That was ruining me all over again. “Not stalkin’, babe. I think keeping my eyes on the woman who almost got killed today, my woman, is considered the sanest thing I’ve ever done. Insane is taking my eyes off her in the first place.” He paused, letting those words find root. “And you don’t need to be movin’ to run from me. We both know that.”
I swallowed. “I wasn’t the one who left,” I argued. “And I’m not yours,” I added as an afterthought.
His eyes hardened. “Yeah, babe. You were. Not letting you go anywhere again, though.” He paused. “And you are mine. Have been since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
I tilted my head. “You going to keep me pinned against my car for the rest of my life?” I asked through the pain of his words, and the truth to them. “Because I’m thinking that’s not the best long-term plan. And you overbearing alpha male types get antsy when you don’t have new and interesting ways to throw your testosterone around. Plus, I’m not one to let a man keep me in one place without a fight.”
He leaned forward even closer. So close that every inch of him brushed against me so my heart became a roar in my chest and goose bumps erupted on my bare skin, despite the balmy air.
“You want a fight, Snow?” he murmured against my mouth, his eyes never leaving mine. “Oh, you’ve got one. I’ll enjoy every fuckin’ second of fightin’ with you. And fightin’ for you? I’ll do that. To the death. So just so we’re clear, no more running. From either of us.”
The words hung in the air for an extended amount of time, so even though neither of us was speaking, the evening was far from silent. And I wasn’t talking about the background noise of traffic, sirens and general chaos of L.A.
It was those ghosts from before. The ones that trailed after the living.
It was them I blamed. For the insanity that overtook me, making me grasp Keltan’s now long hair and yank his mouth those last couple of inches to secure it against mine.
The second our lips touched I drowned in it. The kiss. The one I may have started but lost control of the moment he made a feral sound in the back of his throat and yanked at my waist to imprint every inch of himself onto me while he kissed me to ensure the only breath I got was from him.
It lasted long.
I didn’t know how long.
Long enough for me to end up on the hood of my car, my dress riding up to almost my waist and Keltan standing between my legs, the hardness in his jeans pressing against my delicate lace panties.
Long enough for me to almost have an orgasm.
From a kiss.
In a parking lot.
On the hood of a car.
“Get a room,” a cheerful voice filtered through the layers that came with Keltan’s touch.
And kiss.
And general presence.
“Or at least a camera crew,” the voice continued as I swam to the surface and yanked my head back. “You’d make a lot from this situation. People love exhibitionist porn. Especially when the actors look like the two of you,” Jon said, his attractive face stretched into a grin. Or as much as his recent Botox injection allowed.
Jon was beautiful. Not in a female way, or even a male way. Just in a human way. He was tall, although not as tall as he usually was considering he was wearing sparkled loafers instead of his usual heels. They went much better with the black tailored pants he was wearing. He was thinner than I was because he ate nothing but coffee, cigarettes and the hearts of young men who fell in love with him. Okay, not really. He might eat a wheel of cheese every now and then.
He had his hand on his hip, a handbag dangling in the crook of his arm, false eyelash–laden eyes on us. More precisely on Keltan, hungry and alight with the look that I was far too familiar with. One that captured the hearts of young men throughout Hollywood.