Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I want to argue, but you make a good point.” Best not to think too hard about Beast calling me sexy as shit. I shake my head and lie down. Gravity seems to increase the second my head hits the pillow and my eyes close despite my best intentions. “She’s not going to be handle another day like today so soon. I don’t think any of us can.”
“I know.” I can’t quite tell without seeing his face, but Beast sounds amused. Almost indulgent. “I have something else in mind.”
I should demand to know what his plans are, should remind him that we’re equals in this and so I should be involved in any big decisions and plans. I should do a lot of things. “Whatever you want, then.”
Exhaustion weighs me down, but I swear I feel the faintest brush of fingertips against my forehead, smoothing my hair back and his low voice saying, “I want it all.”
Chapter 16
Beast
Another night of rest, another night unbroken with the nightmarish memories riding me hard. Both Gaeton and Isabelle relax in sleep, and both of them are cuddlers. It amuses me to no end to wake up with Isabelle’s nose pressed to the middle of my back and Gaeton’s heavy arm over both of us. It’s so fucking tempting to just stay in bed and soak up the closeness of these two people who are so determined to keep everyone at a distance.
Instead, I carefully extract myself and head to the bathroom. A quick shower later and I’m once again dressed in my own clothes. It feels a little strange after damn near twenty-four hours of wearing Gaeton’s pants, but I need my head on straight for what comes next.
We have Ursa to deal with.
I don’t think for a second that making a public show of solidarity will make her back off for good. She’s hungry and ambitious, a shark scenting blood in the water after Orsino’s death. If we hadn’t tipped the balance, she might have contented herself with poking at our borders. No use worrying about what might have happened. We have to deal in facts.
That means contingency plans.
I’m on my third call of the morning when Isabelle wanders out of the bedroom. I’d heard her rustling around fifteen minutes ago and put on a pot of coffee, and she makes a beeline for it. I watch her pad around wearing Gaeton’s shirt, and the sheer domesticity of this moment nearly knocks me off my feet. I want this. I’m determined to have it.
Nothing will stand in my way.
Not our history. Sure as fuck not the Sea Witch’s ambitions.
Isabelle pours a cup of coffee and brings it to her lips. I don’t know how she has any taste buds left when she drinks scalding hot coffee like that, but she’s managed to get by for years just fine. How many mornings did we have like this when we were together? More than I want to count. The woman is a force to be reckoned with, but she’s like the walking dead before her first hit of caffeine. I found that unbearably charming before, and I find it unbearably charming this morning, too.
She makes a little humming noise that goes straight to my cock and opens her eyes fully for the first time since she walked out. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I hang up, slip my phone into my pocket, and cross to her. She watches me, some wariness flickering into her dark eyes as she seems to remember all the history and bullshit. I carefully take the mug from her and set it on the counter and then catch her hips. “Morning.”
“Morning,” she echoes, still watching me as if she’s trying to draw my thoughts right out of my head. “You seem different.”
“Do I?” I snake a hand up her spine, pulling her flush to my chest, and cup the back of her head. “It strikes me that I haven’t kissed you properly in more than a year.”
She licks her lips. “I noticed that, too.”
How many times have I tugged her into my arms and kissed her? A hundred? A thousand? I can’t begin to count. Never once did it feel as fraught as this moment, as if one wrong move will cave in the ground beneath our feet. “I’d like to.”
A small furrow appears between her brows. “You’ve been commanding me to do all sorts of filthy things and now you’re asking for a kiss?”
“It’s different.” Maybe it’s sentimental as shit, but I want her to choose this in a moment when I’m not railroading her. Sex and kink can be the glue that holds the three of us together long enough for us to figure out something more permanent, but it can’t be the only part of the foundation I fully intend to build. Not if I want it to last.