Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“I’m almost done,” I say, dabbing my face again.
I look at myself again and take deep breaths. I can do this. I need to do this. I toss the hand towel in the bin that says “used” and open the door with my polite smile. I’m ready to excuse myself when I see a very pissed-off Lachlan Duke standing at the door. He studies me as he steps closer, and I’m forced to take a step back.
“Did something happen?” I ask.
“What did he say?” he asks, his voice low and menacing.
“Wh-what? Who?” I take another step back, trying to process what he’s asking, but I can’t think straight when he looks at me like this. My eyes widen when he shuts the door behind him. “Lach.”
“What. Did. He. Say. To. You?” he seethes, holding me so I don’t fall, as he marches me backwards until I hit the mirrored wall.
He has to be asking about Liam, but how would he have seen us? We were in completely different rooms. We were the only ones in that damn little gallery. He couldn’t have seen me crying, but he must have, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him this upset. His breathing is uneven as he sets his hands on the mirror and cages me in. My heart skips as I look at him. I slip my hands under his jacket and slide them over his dress shirt, pressing them to his chest, one over his wildly beating heart.
“Lach,” I whisper, keeping a hand there as I reach up and brush his hair away from his forehead with the other. His eyes soften for the tiniest moment, so I ask, “Are you talking about Liam?”
“He upset you.” His jaw clenches harder, if possible. “He made you cry. What the fuck did he say?”
I stare at him for a moment, thinking about this entire, fucked up situation, and maybe it’s because my emotions are all over the freaking place, but I start to full-out laugh.
“You’re this pissed off because your brother said something to upset me?” I search his eyes, still laughing. “Even though you’ve been trying to hurt me from the moment you found me?”
“Lyla.” He groans loudly, pressing his forehead against mine. “I apologized for that. You know I’m sorry.” He pulls away and looks at me again. This time his voice is calm when he asks, “What did he say?”
“He told me what you should have told me the second you saw me,” I say. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He had no right to tell you that.” His eyes narrow. “I’m going to fucking ki—”
I grab and pull the lapels of his jacket, pressing my lips to his before he finishes the sentence. He’s so shocked that it takes him a second to react. When he does, he snaps, grabbing my hair in a fist and pulling me against him like he wants to somehow mold our bodies together. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when I lick the seam of his lips, and wrap my arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. His hips surge forward. I moan and bite his lip at the feel of him on my stomach. I need more. I think I say that, or maybe he reads my thoughts.
Either way, he lifts me and walks to the bench on the other side of the bathroom that I thought looked ridiculous a few minutes ago, but I appreciate now. He’s still kissing me as he sits down and sets my feet on the ground. I pull away and lift my dress to my hips. His eyes are molten as they take in my body from the waist down.
I set my hands on his shoulders and straddle him, kissing him deeply again. We’re all tongue, teeth, and nails — two savages who have been apart for too long. It doesn’t matter that we did this a few hours ago. We have years to make up for.
“Fuck,” he breathes against me, pressing his lips to my jaw and dragging them down my neck when I throw my head back.
“God, yes,” I gasp, my hips moving against him of their own accord.
He grips my thighs harder and bites the tops of my breasts, as he moves his thumbs upward on my inner thighs, drawing slow circles that drive me crazy. I’m so drunk on him that I may come just from that. When he finally reaches where I want him, he brushes his thumb over my panties. He inhales sharply against my mouth and pulls away. I make a sound when he stops moving his hand.
“Fuck, baby,” he growls. “Are you always this wet?”
“Only for you.” I grind my hips, gasping when his thumb presses against my clit at the movement. He slips a finger underneath my panties but doesn’t move it. I grind again, feeling the pressure once more. “Lachlan, please. Please. Please.”