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 mine. I’m yours. What’s simpler than that?”
I scoffed. “Details. A lot of them.”
He crossed the distance, gripping my face in his hands. “Fuck the details,” he murmured, leaning in for a short but purposeful kiss.
I rolled my eyes when he let me go. Then I took a breath. A big one. At least I tried to, around the quiet storm rippling around us. Through the chaos. And the stillness. I didn’t know which was harder to breathe around, but if this was happening, if I was going to pour it all at, then I would do it.
“I can’t breathe around you,” I whispered.
His body stiffened a little, but he didn’t break eye contact, the softness of his eyes a beautiful contrast to the hardness of his body. “No, babe. You’ve just been drowning for so long that you’ve forgotten what breathing feels like.” He paused. “But now you’re not drownin’, baby.” He stepped forward, as if he couldn’t stand not touching me, brushing an errant hair from my face.
My soft exhale kissed his hand.
“You’re breathing easy for the first time. In those still waters, that still façade you hide behind, it’s disguised the fact that you’ve been flailing underwater.” He moved his hand so he gripped my neck. “You think you’re drowning because you don’t know what breathing feels like. This?” He leaned in and kissed me with agonizing slowness, taking my breath away and giving it back to me at the same time. “This is breathing,” he said, his voice thick. “How about you enjoy the fresh air before deciding to dive back into those still waters of yours?” He paused. “And even if you do, I’m a mighty good swimmer, so I’ll make sure you’ll never drown again. In fact, I’ll do that until my own last breath.”
I sucked in the air that hadn’t thickened but had become crisp and light with his words. “How is it that a country boy from the corner of the world with alpha male tendencies manages to speak in such eloquent metaphors?” I asked finally.
He grinned. “Called survival, Snow,” he rasped. “Because I was drowning too. Until I tasted sweet air with you. So, I gotta use pretty words to get you to stay with me so I can breathe too.”
It wasn’t lost on me. The precipice of the moment. The crossroads. The one we’d been at so many times before. Where I’d taken what I thought were the right turns every time. When I thought the past and the storm and stillness were too much to make the other turn possible.
I wondered whether I’d been taking wrong turns all along. Because of that past, that storm.
My eyes searched his, realizing the turn he’d taken. Almost two years back.
“Sure. I’ll give you that if you give me something in return,” I offered, deciding to try and salvage something from this, considering I’d pretty much just sacrificed everything I had for him.
The moment lost some of its intensity, or maybe it still remained and we functioned around it.
He grinned. “You’ve piqued my interest. And if you’re going to give simplicity a go, I’m willing to give you almost anything.” He paused, letting me go. “Apart from my virginity. That’s long gone. And you wouldn’t want it anyway. Teenage me has none of adult me’s moves.”
I stared at him. “Are you sure we’re calling this adult you?” I asked dryly.
He shot me a grin, eyes filled with something that looked remarkably like Rosie’s before she did something crazy.
“I’m going to move this on,” I continued, not having time for any more crazy, and not able to fit the pang of pain when it came to thinking of Rosie into this emotional moment.
He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the desk he’d just fucked me on. “I think that’s wise. This could escalate quickly. What can I do you for? Apart from three orgasms?” he asked, voice professional.
I scowled at him. “I need your security tapes from the cameras you installed at Lucinda’s studio.”
My words worked remarkable magic to not only turn the easy twinkle in Keltan’s eye to a hard glint but to tighten every muscle in his body. And not in a good way.
“What?” he asked slowly. There was warning behind the simple word.
I didn’t speak because I knew he’d heard me. He was just doing that macho thing to try and make me reconsider my request by scaring me with his fury.
As mentioned before, his fury didn’t scare me near as much as the rest.
“Don’t tell me you’re investigating this shit, Lucy,” he clipped.
“I’m not investigating,” I replied easily. “I’m doing my job. Which just happens to be needing those tapes.”
He pushed off his desk, that fury whipping around him like wind. I couldn’t see it, but with men like Keltan, whose emotions were palpable, intense, you could taste it.