Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Right now, I had shit to do, but he wasn’t going to get away with talking to my girl like that.
She may just be my captive, but that still made her mine.
While she was in my home, she was mine.
I scrolled through some of her other messages until I found the longest thread, with a girl who looked to be her assistant.
I typed out a quick message saying Olivia was going off the grid for a bit and to handle things until she reached out.
With another sip of my bourbon, I kicked my feet up onto the wooden rolltop desk and started snooping through her photos and her calendar.
It was almost all business. This woman had less of a social life than I did. Her entire life was work, a trait to be commended in a man but pitied in a woman.
For a moment, I wondered if I should have set up a date with the desperate pissant, then warmth from the bourbon turned sour as anger ran through me. No, he wouldn’t be talking to anyone, let alone Olivia, like that again.
My thoughts were interrupted by Olivia’s shrieks.
Hearing the panic and terror in her voice, I vaulted out of my chair and ran down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen, fearing the worst.
As I crossed the threshold, there was an unholy glow which lit up the small interior.
Bright flames encircled her tiny frame, clinging to every curve in a death-like grip.
My heart pounded in my ears, almost drowning out the sound of her horrified screams.
Launching across the room, I grabbed her arms and stretched them out to her sides, to prevent her from patting out the flames herself and burning her hands. In the same motion, I pushed my fingers deep inside the bodice of her gown and ripped it straight down the middle, exposing her bare breasts and the world’s tiniest thong.
I didn’t say a word or even acknowledge her shriek of outrage as I tossed her dress into the sink and opened the faucet. I then shut off the stove and grabbed her shoulders, turning her so she was facing me. I checked her over; her skin appeared a little pink, but otherwise she looked unharmed.
I ran my hands down her slim arms and clasped her wrists, turned her hands over palms up, examining her for signs of burns or blistering. Like the skin on her chest and arms it was pink but didn’t seem badly burned.
The fear which still raced through my veins intensified to fury.
Jesus fucking Christ.
She could have been killed.
All over her stupid, stubborn Manwarring pride.
She wriggled to get out of my grasp. The moment I released her wrists, she covered her breasts.
I snatched her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “Are you insane? You should have just told me you didn’t know how to cook,” I yelled.
Her mouth opened and closed several times as her eyes teared up.
Filled with an untamable mixture of fear and rage, I grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hallway to the bathroom.
She tried to complain, but I wasn’t listening.
The last thing I needed was for her skin to blister, and have it look like I tortured the poor girl.
At least that was what I was telling myself.
Luc wouldn’t involve the authorities over a simple kidnapping, but torture was another story. If he thought for a second I was burning her, he would bring hellfire down on my home and not stop until he had my head served on a silver platter.
Throwing the shower curtain aside, I flipped the shower on, making sure the water was cool but not too cool. She would probably go into shock soon and I didn’t want to hasten that with a blast of cold water, but I also didn’t want to worsen her possibly injured skin with hot water.
After checking the temperature one last time, I turned to her.
She shook her head. “I’m not ...”
I didn’t let her finish her sentence.
I swept her into my arms and lifted her over the tub edge to deposit her into the shower.
Her shriek of outrage was cut short, transformed into a gurgle as water poured into her open mouth.
Before she could object, I turned her to face the tiled wall and slipped my finger into the back of her thong. I snapped it where the sides met the back and let the useless fabric flutter to the shower floor.
She threw an outraged glance over her shoulder. “You can’t just—”
“I can’t just … what?”
Her widened eyes skirting to a corner of the shower, she wrapped her arms tightly over her breasts and crossed her legs. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” I asked as I stripped off my shirt and then my pants, before climbing into the shower with her.
“Get out! Get out now!” she ordered, trying to gesture with one arm while still keeping her other arm over her chest and raising one toned thigh to cover what I just learned was her waxed pussy.