Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 104011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I knew when she acted out on her birthday she would never break for Nick; she’d rather die first. Taking her necklace as a punishment couldn’t have given me a more perfect situation. I wasn’t sure I would ever wind up needing it, but something told me to at least be prepared.
Checking the lock on the last door in the house, I turn around and head toward my bedroom. When I pass Julianna’s bedroom, which is directly across from mine, I notice her door is open and the light is still on. Even though we’ve already said goodnight, she’s like a magnet, always drawing me in with a strong, alluring force. I stop, lean against the doorframe of her room, and cross my arms. I watch her silently as she turns down the bedding. She’s so damn innocent and sweet-natured. One of Stryker’s many dates, who went shopping for Jules and me, did me a service. She’s got a tank top on, and it hugs every one of her curves. I glance farther down and notice the sexiest pink panties that say ‘PINK’ across her ass. I’d laugh at the absurdity of it, but that shit’s a real turn-on. As she climbs into bed and pulls the covers up over her body, she notices me and jerks back with small cry.
“Oh, geez, Travis,” she whispers on an exhale, with the palm of her hand placed securely over her heart. “You startled me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I just wanted to say goodnight one more time.”
She holds her arms out, opening them wide in an invitation, as if I’m a parent coming to tuck in a child for the night. I feel my lips turning up at the corners of my mouth, forming a grin. With her wanting me near, I feel almost giddy at the request. “Well, come give me a goodnight hug and tuck me in,” she says, returning my grin. I give her my best smile as I make my way to her bed, my feet heavy on the hardwood floors as each step sounds out against my steel-toed boots.
The mattress dips as I sit down beside her, my hip touching her thigh. She doesn’t hesitate to take me in her loving arms, and I immediately melt. I can’t seem to get enough of her. Being wrapped up in her feels more than incredible; it’s a piece of heaven. As she snuggles into my chest, she asks in a playful tone, “Do I get a bedtime story tonight?”
My lips quirk. “What’d you have in mind?” I press my lips to her forehead and smell strawberries. God, I love her scent. Stryker gets a gold star for picking out that shampoo.
I pull back to regard her as she contemplates her answer, searching for a story she wants to hear. As she comes up empty-handed, she shrugs and purses her lips.
“Did you take your medicine yet?”
She shakes her head. “No, I was just getting ready to before you scared me.”
I look over at her nightstand to see her glass of water and pills sitting beside her. I scoop them up in my hand and hold them out to her with the glass of water. I feel like such a dick handing her drugs; she has no idea what they are or what they do. She trustingly and unquestionably takes the pills from my hands every night, thinking they’re for her memory loss. I have to tell myself constantly that weaning her off Blyss is much safer than doing it cold-turkey. I’ve tried to keep a safe distance, and not take advantage of her, but it’s very difficult at times for me to have to hold back.
When she’s finished taking her pills, I place the half-empty glass of water back on the nightstand, and as soon as I do, out of nowhere, she catches me off-guard by reaching out to trace her slender finger along my jaw, following the thin line of my scar.
Her soft touch stirs an intense desire and need throughout my body. I tilt my head to the side and observe her. I watch as she shifts her gaze to mine, and I know now what she wants for story time. It’s not going to happen; I’m not going to open up about my past scars, neither mental nor physical. My voice comes out surprisingly rough and low. “Don’t ask, sweetheart.”
She flushes in embarrassment and averts her gaze to her lap; she’s so easy to read. The palm of my hand gently cups her cheek, guiding her back to me as I slowly swipe my thumb over her bottom lip, disengaging it from between her teeth. Her lip is soft and pliant, and I can’t seem to stop caressing it. Shit, what I wouldn’t give for a taste, but I don’t want to overstep my bounds and scare her off.