Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“You contact who you need to contact,” Soleil said right then, leaving the bed—and her position straddling him.
He immediately missed the warmth of her, the feel of her, her touch.
A glance at him, anger still sparking in those wild eyes, but she leaned in, cupped his cheek … and kissed him with ferocious possessiveness. “I’m still mad,” she said after she broke the kiss that had downed him more effectively than any punch. “You also need more food, more fuel—I love those cheekbones but they’re about to cut your skin.” She looked around his room. “Is there more food in the kitchenette?”
When he shook his head, she said, “Then I guess we’re going out to a restaurant.” The words were more a command than a suggestion. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed, use that time to call the cubs and Abuela Yari. Meet you downstairs.” An instant later, she’d picked up her pink bag and was gone, this woman whose shattered body he’d picked up and carried in his arms once upon a time.
The roles had very definitely been reversed.
Rising, he had a one-minute shower because he’d sweated during that nightmare walk on the island. He also used the time to think about who he should contact about the situation on the island—this wasn’t a case of passing on intel to the family, who’d then share it. As the only one who’d stepped on the island, he’d need to handle this himself.
He was still thinking on the situation after he got out and changed into a pair of jeans and a black button-down shirt, over which he threw on the black blazer Arwen had gifted him. He wanted Soleil to see him how he could be, civilized and sophisticated. He wasn’t only the rough assassin who she’d always met.
Only when he was walking down the stairs after sending a quick message did he realize that he was severely overdressed. In his desire to impress her, he’d gotten it all wrong.
Chapter 38
Kaleb, I have information you need to know: in summary, I can get on that new PsyNet island. Are you aware of the current situation on the ground there?
—Message from Ivan Mercant to Kaleb Krychek (9:00 a.m.)
SOLEIL LOOKED UP, able to sense Ivan walking down the steps even though he was preternaturally silent for a Psy. You’d have thought he was a cat if you didn’t know better.
All the air punched out of her chest at first sight of him. His hair was damp and finger-combed, his body clad in jeans and a black shirt over which he’d thrown on a blazer. He wore the same boots as yesterday. Overall, he looked like he’d walked out of a fashion magazine.
And the way he looked at her …
She glanced away, then back. Furious though her cat was with him, she adored him, too, and that was never going to change. He was in her, Ivan Mercant, and she’d have it no other way.
And now she knew what he looked like under the clothes, too. She’d do anything to have a chance to kiss each and every tattoo, explore every single inch of that honed body.
Her thighs clenched.
Cheeks hot all over again, she went to open the door. And heard a slight rustle at her back. When she glanced over, she saw that he’d taken off his blazer and hung it over the newel post at the end of the staircase. Odd, but she could’ve almost said that there was a sense of discomfort about him.
“I liked the blazer,” she found herself saying.
He hesitated, looked at her as if trying to read the truth of her statement. But then he put it back on. Her heart thudded, something small and soft inside her getting stronger, more intense.
Be careful with him, little sister. He might look tough, but when strong men fall, they fall all the way. You’re his weakness.
A wave of tenderness stole her breath. He might be stubborn and arrogant in his belief that he knew the right answer to what he’d decided was an insurmountable problem, but he was also more vulnerable to her than she’d understood until this moment.
“I bought you a dress,” he said without warning. “When I came to find you at the hospital. Because your other dress had been so badly damaged. I could only find an automated shop, so it’s not the best quality.”
With any other man, she’d have thought he was trying to insult her current choice of clothing, but Ivan, she already understood, didn’t think that way. So it was disappointment that bit at her. “Oh.” She fiddled with the strap of her bag. “What happened to it?”
“I have it upstairs.”
This time she did stare at him—and yes, that was very definitely discomfort on his face. “What?”
“I’ve carried it around with me since the day I bought it.” He glanced away, as if unable to hold her gaze.