Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“Not so bad it caused you more pain than you like, but enough that it would mark you.” His eyes went hooded. “I like to see you marked.”
I knew that. Rough as he was, he bit me often and left fingerprint bruises. Truth be told, I liked looking at those marks. I just never told him. “Well, bristles are a no-no for me—let’s be clear on that.”
He only smiled, probably feeling confident that he could get me to agree to it when I was all fired up and desperate to come.
After he’d loaded the tray and wheeled it outside to be collected by a member of staff, he returned to me. “I have to leave for a few hours. I need to meet with Rafael before you and I head to my parents’ house for dinner.” He paused, studying my face, and then arched a brow. “You didn’t forget about it, did you?”
Yup. Totally. “Of course not.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Hmm,” he said, all skepticism. “Before I leave, I want to show you something. Come with me.”
I followed him into the living room, where he snatched a bag from the floor near the sofa. I felt my brow crease. “What you got there?”
He held it out. “Something to keep you occupied while I’m gone.”
Sparing him a curious glance, I took the bag and peeked inside. My mouth parted in surprise when I examined the contents.
“I noticed you have plenty of other books by those authors.”
I met his gaze. “These novels haven’t been released yet.” I knew it, because I’d spent months impatiently waiting for them to be made available to purchase.
He shrugged. “As the owner of the publishing company, I can obtain early copies.”
Excitement fluttered in my stomach at the same time as tenderness bloomed in my chest. “You can’t know how psyched I am right now. The book bug in me is mentally jumping for joy.” I flashed him a bright smile. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“Tough. Just did.” I set down the bag and locked my arms around him, pinning his own arms to his sides.
“What are you doing?”
“The book bug in me wants to hug you,” I said against his chest. “Man up and deal.” I felt his chin rub against the top of my head.
“I thought the term was ‘bookworm.’”
“I don’t like worms. Prefer bugs. And no, the two aren’t the same.” Finally, I released him. “Tell Rafael I said hi.”
“Not many people ask me to pass on their hellos to Rafael.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not crazy pleased that you’re close buds with a criminal mastermind. But I figure, if he’s your friend, there must be some good in him. Nobody is one-dimensional, after all. But even if I didn’t feel that way, I’d still be nice to him for your sake.”
Pausing, I took a step back and picked up my bag. “Now, I have books to bury myself in. Please forgive the fact that I won’t remember you exist until you get home and interrupt my reading. It’s genuinely nothing personal.”
His lips hitched up for the briefest moment. “So noted.”
Looking up at the large, three-story Victorian manor later that day, I smiled. “I know I’ve said it before, but I love this house.” It boasted all the features I loved about this style of building—bay windows, a gabled roof, turrets, towers, stained glass, and a pretty porch.
As we walked up the path toward it, I cast Dax a sideways glance. “Did you live here throughout your whole childhood?”
“Most of it,” he replied. “Up until I was eighteen months old, we lived in a penthouse apartment. Obviously, I don’t remember those days.”
Looking at the upper windows, I nudged him. “Are you going to show me your old lair while we’re here? You never have before.”
His brow furrowed. “My old lair?”
“The room you used to sleep in,” I clarified as we climbed the porch. “The place I’m sure you debauched many teenage girls when you were just a teen yourself.”
“Debauched?” he repeated, his lips curling.
“Well, you debauched me plenty back when I was a teen.” Though not here.
Heat flared in his eyes. “I remember.” He pressed the doorbell.
It was Kensey who answered the door. Her mouth curving into a grin, she welcomed us both inside, dabbing a quick kiss on Dax’s cheek and then on mine. “Glad you could make it.” She gestured for us to follow her and then walked further into the house.
The first time I’d come here, I’d done a lot of gaping. The interior was as striking as the exterior. It had ornate lighting and high ceilings. There seemed to be a fireplace in pretty much every room. And the geometric terracotta floor tiles were beautiful.
As we strolled down the hallway, I let my gaze skim over the framed pictures on the walls—most were of Dax and his three siblings at different ages. “You were such a cute kid, Dax. But it isn’t fair that you don’t seem to have had a gawky phase—mine was horrendous.”