Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
“You have my dubious consent to touch me. Seems only fair that my fidelity should be just as questionable.”
He grips my thigh, fingers digging painfully into my flesh. “You have my key, and therefore, my faithfulness. I won’t tolerate any less from you, my queen.”
“I’m sorry to inform you, but I don’t want your key or anything that comes with it.”
Withdrawing his hand from my leg, he stands. “You won’t give me a chance, will you?”
“I believe in giving people chances, but that’s not what you asked for. You demanded my submission just like every other man in this place.”
“And yet you make an exception for Sebastian.”
“I never said I made an exception for him.”
“You didn’t have to. You dreamed about him, and you were thinking about him just now.” He nods toward the disintegrating bubbles between my knees. “I’d call that an exception.”
“The only exception is that Sebastian never forced me into anything.”
Miles raises a brow. “Did he not manipulate the situation to get your anal virginity?”
Boldly, I hold his gaze. “He didn’t force himself on me, if that’s what you think.”
“So you wanted him.” Dawning realization crosses his features, and there’s not a hint of question in his words. “I thought you were caught up in lust, but you reciprocate his affection.”
“Can I get out now?” I ask, ignoring his accurate deduction.
He moves to the side. “Of course.”
I step out of the tub and wrap my body in a plush bath sheet, and that’s when he sets a warm hand on my shoulder.
“I’ve tried to be patient with you, my queen. I’m not sure what else you want from me.”
“Clothing would be nice.”
“You’re not the only one naked here.” He waves a hand toward his own nudity. “My only intention was to create a bond between us.”
“You could have spent time getting to know me,” I point out. “Instead, you strong-armed me into every decision, all the while expecting me to grow fond of you.”
His actions confuse me, because even Heath Bordeaux didn’t attempt to make me like him. Miles has undermined his own cause at every turn, and I don’t think he even realizes it. I step past him, but his conciliatory tone halts me.
“This is how we’ve always done things in the House of Virgo. It’s our foundation.”
“Maybe you should rethink that foundation.” I glance at him from over my shoulder. “Trust and fidelity can’t be built through coercion.”
“If not coercion, then what do you suggest?”
“Mutual respect.”
Except it’s an idea he doesn’t believe in. As I stride out of the bathroom, his silence doesn’t offer me much hope for change.
11
Maybe I underestimated Miles Sinclair. Since our conversation in the bathroom, he’s gone out of his way to treat me better. Though he still won’t allow clothing in his house, he’s now sleeping in the other bed, and he hasn’t touched me beyond a graze on my cheek, or a gentle hand on the small of my back.
He claims he wants to prove his pure intentions and respect for me, though I’m uncertain he knows the true meaning of either. But one thing is certain—Miles has changed direction these past few days. It’s a minuscule behavioral shift, but it’s as tangible as the way my insides ache for another man.
The always-present thoughts of Sebastian alters my own behavior, and instead of strolling along the cliffs, like I do most days after lunch, I head for the gazebo. I miss him with the searing burn of a million suns.
His rare smile.
The way he looks at me.
How he’s vulnerable with no one else.
His absence amplifies the agony of our last minutes alone together, because he’s not here to dispel the creeping doubt that plagues my soul. He’s not here to hold me when I need it most. It doesn’t help that the memory of us haunts my dreams, from the storybook cottage on the beach to the forceful anal sex on the elevator floor. Even worse, the closed door of his studio assaults me with the silence behind it every time I pass by.
Why haven’t I spotted him even once since the day we spoke with Elise as our chaperone?
Perhaps I’m a masochist for heartbreak, because as I approach the gazebo, with its stone pillars overwhelming in sheer size, an undeniable ache thickens my throat. I almost turn and run in the opposite direction, overcome with his absence the way one grieves for a loved one who’s passed.
The ache in my chest is that strong.
Somehow, my feet carry me up the stairs, and I fail to breathe when I realize I’m not alone. He’s standing at the far end, as still as the pillars surrounding us. Stonewashed faded jeans complement his white T-shirt, though I’d expect him to wear black to match the aura cloaking him.
I can feel his dark mood from where I stand, soundless and frozen in time.