Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Like a wild animal, I thrash against his hold, refusing to go down without a fight. I claw at the air, barely missing his skin. Asshole. I swipe again but only catch the soft cotton material of his T-shirt. With lightning-fast reflexes, he turns me in his grasp, bringing me face-to-face with a beautiful, wicked monster.
"Hello, Wallflower." His voice wraps around me like smoke, snuffing out any hope of escape. His piercing gaze sends a shudder rippling through me.
His tone says hello but the deep timbre catching in his throat says something else entirely. Something dark, sinister, and molten like red-hot lava.
Remember what he did to you.
A mouse caught in a trap. That’s what I am right now, and I can’t let him win again.
I can’t. I open my mouth to tell him to release me, but nothing more than a whimper escapes. You’re nothing to me, Bel. The memory splinters through my fragile mind, and I let it guide me. I claw at him, trying to slip out of his iron grip.
“Is that really any way to greet someone?” he taunts.
He is absolutely psycho, but I already know that, don't I?
How dare he assume he can touch, taunt, or talk to me as if he didn’t smash my heart with a baseball bat in front of everyone we know?
I snarl my lips and bare my teeth. “Let go of me!” I order, my voice cracking.
Leaning forward, he presses his forehead against mine, and I suck a ragged breath into my lungs as his touch burns across my skin. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything. Like an eerie mist, Drew’s everywhere. His scent surrounds me, drowning me in his darkness.
Peppermint and teakwood.
“Or what? What are you going to do, Flower?” His eyes flash, challenging me.
Fight. I’m going to fight.
I claw at him one last time, putting as much effort into it as possible, and this time, I make contact with his skin. I sink my nails into his flesh, dragging them down the length of his throat. Satisfaction fills all the empty spaces in my heart, but it doesn’t last long.
Horror soon takes its place when the skin splits beneath my nails. Blood oozes out of the deep scratches that mark his neck.
I freeze with my heart in my throat.
I shouldn’t look at him, but I do.
His features are pinched, and where I expect there to be an expression of anger or pain, I find shock and something like adoration in his green eyes.
Only he would find violence adorable.
I won’t lie. I'm a little shocked, but this is another reason he needs to stay away from me. I hate this person I become in his presence. I manage to come back first and take a step back, but I quickly realize I have nowhere to go, not with the huge bookshelf behind me and Drew in front of me.
“Oh… Bel.” He shakes his head and presses his fingertips to the side of his throat.
When he pulls his hand back, my eyes catch on the smeared blood and dart up to his. He gives me a devastating smile. If I were not weak in the knees already, I would be now.
“I’ve missed this, but most of all, I’ve missed you. Has it really been so long that you forgot what your fighting does to me? How hard it makes my cock?” he growls, and the sound vibrates through me like the low buzz of a vibrator. “I’m doing my best to be a gentleman, Bel. I’m trying so hard to give you space and time to heal because I know I fucked up, but my patience can only withstand so much. You belong to me, and no amount of fighting or time will change that.”
“That’s where you’re wrong! Everything has changed.” I hiss and raise my hands to his chest, giving him a hard shove.
It does nothing. He doesn’t move, not even an inch. It’s like he’s made of rock.
Knowing this, he smirks, closing the breath's length of distance separating us. The old wood bookshelves dig into my back.
I’m trapped.
I tip my head back to look into his eyes. His gaze burns a path across my skin as he studies each freckle, hair, and mark as if he’s seeing it for the first time. That same gaze drags down the length of my neck, burning me from the inside out.
"Fuck, Flower. I can’t put into words how good it feels to see you. To feel your fucking skin beneath my hands. This entire month has been a neverending nightmare.”
I grit my teeth, and the familiar pricking of tears in my eyes makes it hard to hold his gaze. “A nightmare…?”
“Yes, a nightmare.”
I blink back the tears threatening to slip from my eyes. Of course he would make this about him. About how much he suffered and how badly I treated him. How stupid of me to assume he would actually have an ounce of empathy for the things I’ve gone through in the past month. He’s far too selfish for that. Far too consumed with his own wants and needs.