Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
A belt with a custom insignia on the buckle. A two-headed eagle or a phoenix perhaps.
My gaze travels further upwards. Flat stomach. Black turtleneck sweater. Pale skin, blond hair, sensual mouth, strong jaw, narrow nose and…
Suddenly, my eyes lock with the stranger’s, and something shifts inside of me.
I hold my breath without even realizing it. As I stare into those translucent icy blue irises full of mysteries. Time stops. It isn’t the way romance books describe it. The rest of the world doesn’t drop away. Instead those eyes reach into my soul and whirl me away into another world. It’s like a sense of déjà vu as if I’ve once danced in the snow with this man while a full orchestra played just for us.
I think of steel hardened by fire and feel strong sexual desire for him flower in my belly, but I just can’t explain why I would feel that. He is sooooo not my type. I’m contemptuous of arrogant rich men who believe they can buy anything with their money. And there is no doubt he is such a man. I can tell by the curve of his mouth. Nothing has been denied this man. Ever.
For he is like a marvelous piece of art. His pale beauty and gold hair have a strange… darkness to them that immediately makes you wary, but is at the same time so magnetic, so fascinating, you can’t look away, you want in. And all you can do is stand there, or in my case, lie there and stare stupidly.
“Are you alright?” he asks. His voice has a hypnotic quality, smooth as honey dripping from a spoon, but laced with a powerful note of authority.
I want to hear him speak again.
He takes another step towards me and bends slightly from his great height to hold a hand out to me. At the moment, I realize something else about him. He is clean. Immaculately clean. Not a blonde hair out of place, not a speck of dust on his expensive clothes, his nails are beautifully manicured, and his skin is so clear and blemish free it is as if he is one of those Gods from Mount Olympus who used to occasionally step down to earth to mate with human women.
I feel my hackles rise.
I do not like this man at all.
I know wholeheartedly, instinctively, definitely.
He is dangerous to me.
Chapter 2
Autumn
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8AHCfZTRGiI
-Hurt-
The smell of turpentine is overpowering, but I can still smell her. She wears no perfume. Just the clean, honest scent of her sweat. I don’t let it show on my face, but being this close to her actually makes the blood course through my veins with a deafening force. And the mixture of lust and excitement is almost crippling. All that I thought was dead has come alive again.
I see all kinds of emotions rush across her face. Shock, confusion, surprise, sexual attraction, and finally dislike. Dislike so intense it is closer to hate. I can see she is going to run with that emotion.
Ignoring my outstretched hand, she scrambles to her feet. I retract my hand and watch her put as much space between us as the cluttered area will allow.
“How did you get in here?” she demands aggressively.
I stroll away from her. “You left the door unlocked.”
“There’s a CLOSED sign on the door,” she snaps.
“Is there?” I ask mildly.
“Yes, there is. We’re closed. If you want to buy anything you must come back tomorrow. We open again at 10.00 a.m.”
She stares at me uneasily. She has convinced herself she hates my guts, but she is trembling, trembling with the same irrational lust I have throbbing in my body. I understand her perfectly. Hate is easy. All the other options terrify her.
“I have to go away in the morning, but I’ve seen something in the shop I want. Would you be so kind as to put it away for me? Tell Larry to charge it to my account, and I’ll send someone around to pick it up on Thursday.”
She frowns, immediately suspicious. “Which painting is it?”
“Miranda Taking a Bath.”
“Oh,” she says covering her hand over her mouth. The action serves only to smear more paint on her cheek. My eyes linger on the soft curve.
She drops her hand in confusion. “Of course, I’ll put it away for you.”
Now that I’ve established I’m a valuable customer willing to buy the most expensive painting in the premises, I start to walk towards the painting on the easel. But she rushes quickly to stand in front of it and block it from my gaze.
“Ignore this,” she mutters uncomfortably. “It’s just something I'm working on. Uh, please come out to the shop floor with me. This area is staff only.”
“What are you creating?” I ask softly.
“Oh… uh. It’s nothing. I’m just a student… playing around.”
“Let me see it,” I say softly as I stare into her warm hazel eyes. They are full of golden flecks. I let her drown in my gaze until, unable to resist, she moves aside.