Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“Eat,” he says, putting a plate of pancakes in front of me.
I stare up at his handsome face. Stubble darkens his jaw. His hair is sex-messy. The asymmetrical cut looks good on him. It’s hot and rebellious. Suppressing the urge to run my fingers through his hair and drag my palms over his stubble, I reach for the strawberries instead.
He joins me at the table with another serving of pancakes for himself. That he made the effort to cater for my vegetarian diet is sweet. It’s even sweeter that he joins me. I prefer a man who makes me breakfast to a man who sends flowers as a task to tick on his to-do list.
He drags a bowl of cream closer and drops a dollop on my plate. My pills are laid out next to a glass of orange juice.
“Thank you,” I say before swallowing the pills with the juice.
He gives me a heated look. “You need the energy.”
Our gazes lock. What passed in the dark lingers between us in daylight. He offers me a private smile, a gesture exclusively for me. It excludes everyone and everything else. Our secret. Only we know. Returning his smile is an unspoken promise to keep that secret. He waits, and I smile. Despite our secrets, he won’t let betrayal go unpunished.
Cutting into a pancake, he says, “I programmed my number on your phone.”
I make a mental note to put a password on the phone.
“I want you to call me if you ever need anything or if you’re in trouble,” he continues.
The offer takes me by surprise.
He leans over the table and grips my chin. “Understand?”
“Yes,” I whisper as the finality of his statement hits me.
If ever means he’s leaving for good.
“Whatever you do,” he says in a low voice, dropping his hand but holding my gaze, “I’ll always know.”
The warning is clear. He’ll be watching me. Somehow, he’ll keep tabs on me. The realization sinks in. Even if he leaves, I’ll never be free of him. The consequences of crossing his path will stay with me for the rest of my life. They’re already a part of my life, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I grow scared again. Ian is a stallion in bed, but except for the stories I’ve read online, I know nothing about him. I don’t know how far he’s willing to go or the things he’s willing to do to keep his promise. Maybe he’s bluffing to keep me in line. But no. That’s an idle wish. A man like him doesn’t bluff.
“Eat,” he says again, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he bites into a strawberry and offers me the other half.
My lips fold around his finger as I obediently take the offering. In a second flat, the atmosphere changes. The air becomes charged. All warnings and smiles fly through the window as he pushes back his chair. Intent, dark and ravenous, clouds the space as he rounds the table. Gripping my hair in a fist, he gently pulls back my head. His gaze homes in on my lips, and then he mashes our mouths together. He tastes of strawberries and honey. He smells of pancakes and frying oil. The hard contours of his muscles feel delicious under my palms.
His need is darker than last night. More desperate. Sensing his urgency, I don’t take. I give. I let him lick the strawberry juice from my lips and part them when he commands the submission with his tongue. I don’t stop kissing him when he unfastens his jeans with feverish haste and pushes them over his hips. I don’t stop touching him when he rolls on a condom. I go onto all fours for him right there on the floor and let him pound into me from behind until my arms give out and we both go down. He turns us over for me to straddle him, protecting me from the hardness and coldness of the floor. When he tells me to touch myself, I do. I give him everything he wants, my pleasure and my orgasm, taking the exhilarating and terrifying secrets he offers.
When we’re done, he pulls me down onto his chest while we catch our breaths.
“Your shoulder,” I say, splaying my fingers over the hard disk of his nipple.
He rubs a hand over my back. “I’m fine.”
His tone is strained, contradicting his words. Resting my chin on his chest, I study his face with a frown.
“Worried about me?” he asks with a chuckle.
Actually, “Yes.”
He sits up, lifting me with him, and kisses my nose. “That’s sweet.”
Like last night, he taps my ass. “Shower.”
The cryptic command tightens my chest. I should be happy that he’ll soon be setting me free again, but secrets tie people together. Secrets make the strongest bonds.
Standing, he helps me to my feet. He removes the condom and drops it carelessly on the floor. He doesn’t break eye contact when he pulls the jeans over his hips and zips himself up. We stare at each other while something heavy passes through his eyes. Whatever he’s thinking, he’s wrestling with it.