Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
I should have stopped when his hands closed over my hips and he lifted me to sit on the edge, making a place for himself between my knees.
I should have stopped when his hand slid under my shirt, his rough palm sliding up my ribs, fingers curling around my back, his thumb grazing the side of my breast through my tank top.
I’d never been kissed like this. My knees clamped his sides, holding him close, until his hand dropped to my hip, dragging me almost off the edge of the table, close enough for the thick bar of his erection to grind into the growing heat between my legs.
Fuck the Sahara, I could feel how ready my body was, my breasts tight and swollen, pressing against his chest, that callused thumb stroking, stroking until I wanted to beg. He never stopped kissing me. He didn’t press me back to the table, didn’t try to strip off my clothes. Just kissed me until I was liquid in his arms, ready to do anything for more of Finn Sawyer.
I don’t know what would have happened if we hadn’t heard it.
A door shut somewhere. Maybe my mother getting up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night or one of the family coming downstairs. Neither of us stuck around to find out.
All that delicious liquid heat evaporated in an instant. I shoved Finn back and leaped off the counter, bolting for the door.
His mocking voice chased me down the hall. “Like I said, a complete prude.”
My body hummed with a desire I’d never known before as his cruel words sliced through me.
I thought I hated him after that scene in the cafeteria, but now I knew what hate really was. Knees trembling, body aching with unfulfilled need, I escaped into the only space that was mine.
Our small apartment was dark and quiet, my mother still asleep. Splashing cold water on my face, I tried not to look at myself in the mirror. The glimpse I caught was enough. Swollen, red lips, my gray eyes too bright.
What had he done to me? How could I have let Finn Sawyer kiss me like that? How could I have—
I was not going to think about it. I tried to go to sleep, but I couldn’t stop the merry-go-round in my brain. I lay awake until the sun came up. When I finally gave up on sleep and crept into the kitchen for some juice, I found a small white ramekin of crème brûlée in the staff refrigerator, topped with a card that read, Sahara.
I took out the ramekin, turning it in my hand. The crust of sugar was perfectly browned. Even through the chill of the fridge, I could smell the night before. Vanilla, sugar, and Finn. The memory hit me like a freight train—the heat of his body, his rough mouth. His hands on my hips, pulling me closer, so close our bodies were almost one. Almost.
A sticky mess of emotions assaulted me. Desire. Regret. Fury. Humiliation. I pitched the delicate porcelain cup into the trash, wincing only a little as it shattered.
If I never saw Finn Sawyer again, it would be too soon.
I almost got my wish.
Less than a year after that night, Finn Sawyer disappeared off the face of the earth.
It would be ten long years before I saw him again.
And I’d been right.
It was still too soon.
Chapter One
FINN
10 YEARS LATER
I paused outside the door to the main kitchen of Heartstone Manor, hugging the shadows, waiting for my shot. For a little bit of luck. For the exact right moment to set it all in motion.
Inside the kitchens, organized chaos reigned as the cook raced to get dinner plated and served. Mrs. Bailey called out to April, the day maid who helped her with the dinner service. April called back from somewhere out of sight, her words rushed.
It was past time to plate the salad and arrange it in the dumbwaiter for its trip up to the formal dining room. I checked my watch. They were running three minutes behind. Mrs. Bailey’s head was probably about to explode. I pictured Savannah upstairs, tapping her foot in irritation as she waited for the salad course to arrive, ready to be served to the family.
My family.
I should have been in the dining room with them, awaiting my meal, arms crossed over my chest, a surly expression on my face. That was my default these days. A throwback to high school. Angry. Sullen. Wishing I was anywhere but here, trapped in Heartstone Manor, just like I had been all those years ago.
In this moment, I didn’t care about any of it. I didn’t care about my family, my father’s will, the late dinner.
None of that was important. I was a man on a mission, and the mission was the only thing that mattered. I held my breath, listening, waiting for my chance, my tool of sabotage burning a hole in my pocket.