Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
So I stay put, eyes wide open, as he slowly descends into a deep and long slumber, his hand still possessively splayed over my belly as if this killer without a name means to say … mine.
CHAPTER 4
Aurora
I don’t sleep.
Not for an entire night.
Who would ever be able to with a giant snoring right next to them?
All I can do is breathe in and out against the palm of his hand, which is splayed against my belly. Every breath is delayed because each time I do, I feel him against me, pressing into me, making me hyperaware of the fact only mere inches of fabric are between our naked bodies.
I swallow down the lump in my throat.
He snores again.
I shouldn’t stay here. I should try to find an exit and make a run for it.
I peer over the edge of the bed but see nothing in the darkness of the night. There’s no way I’ll find a way out without moving.
Maybe he won’t notice if I slip out from underneath his arm.
Sweat drops roll down my back as I inch forward and gently move my body away from his.
His body strains against mine. Another groan follows.
And then his arm pulls me closer again.
All that effort for nothing.
I breathe out a sigh, but I swallow it again the second I feel his breath deep in the nook of my neck.
And my cheeks start to glow.
Oh God.
Don’t even think about it.
I close my eyes and force the image of his lips against my skin to disappear.
Why does it have to be like this?
One moment, I’m playing the piano, and then the next, I’m lying in bed with the man who killed all our family guards and almost murdered my father.
Almost.
But where could my father be?
Did he run off to a secret hideout? Will he come to save me?
And if he does, could he win against this lumbering giant?
I shiver at the thought of my father fighting this beast of a man.
I don’t want him to get hurt.
But I don’t want to end up in this beast’s clutches either.
Papa always said he’d keep me safe, so why isn’t he here?
He wouldn’t have abandoned me, right?
My body turns stone cold at the thought.
No, he’s out there, thinking of ways to get me back. I’m sure of it.
But I don’t know if it’s the prospect of my father fighting this man or the fact that every breath of his against my neck sends a chill down my spine.
I know he can feel me moving away. One inch and his hand firms up against my body. So I do the only thing I can do. I roll over to face the ceiling. At least then I won’t have to face my own body’s reaction to being shoved up against his package.
Suddenly, a buzzer goes off, and my eyes find his in the darkness.
We stare at each other for a moment.
My heart pounds in my throat as he stares back at me, fully awake.
His hand still resting on my belly, where it feels like butterflies fly all around.
Then he slides his hand off me and picks up a phone to stop the buzz. Within two seconds, he’s up and about, throwing open the curtains as I sit up straight and blink a couple of times to adjust to the sudden burst of light entering the room.
He clutches the window and stares outside for a good while. Almost like a statue basking in the early morning rising sun.
I slip off the bed in silence and sneak into the bathroom, but the second I touch the door, his voice booms through the room. “Don’t.”
Of course, he has eyeballs in the back of his head.
Sighing, I leave the door open and go to the sink to take a much-needed sip. But when I look up into the mirror, the girl I see makes me do a double take. She’s covered in black smudges from all the tears, eyes red and puffy, lipstick all smudged. Good God.
I quickly rinse my face with a tissue and some water and wipe away the excess makeup, then dry myself off. I can’t wash my hands with these gloves on, but that can wait. First, I need to get rid of him.
When I rise again my eyes come into contact with his through the mirror, and it makes me jolt.
He’s just standing there, casually leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, staring me down.
I turn to face him, the collar around his neck drawing my attention, but I dare not ask about it. “So what now?”
His brows rise like he’s waiting for me to answer my own question.
I swallow. “I need to pee.”
“Do your business.”
I frown. He can’t be serious, right?
Is he actually expecting me to pee in front of him?
“Can you at least turn around?”