Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
She squirms beneath me. Actually rolls her hips to rub against the backs of my thighs. I let my weight rest against her pelvis and bring my face closer to hers, reeled in by an invisible string, drawn to her on a level I don’t understand.
The scent of her hair reaches my nose. A natural aroma, pure and fresh like earthy moss and open air with notes of mint. Whatever it is, I’m addicted.
Her untamed mane fans out around her like a golden halo. Huge blue eyes glow in the moonlight, the rest of her features delicate and pixie-like. She might be as ferocious as a lioness, but she looks so damn soft and gentle. Everything inside me clenches to protect her.
What the hell is happening? There’s attraction. There’s sexual desire. Then there’s this. It’s curiosity and gravity and some kind of illogical magnetism that makes my heart beat with the impulse to claim and possess.
The thought pisses me off, and I tighten my hand around her throat.
Her lips part. Her eyes flutter, and she melts beneath my weight. Then she blinks. Her expression closes off, and every inch of her goes taut.
That’s when it clicks.
She’s different. So remarkably different from other women.
Small town girls want marriage, kids, the whole shebang. Throw in the huge estate on ten-thousand acres, and I’m the most eligible bachelor in Sandbank. When they’re with me, they respond to rough play with squealing Ahhhhs, noisy gasps, and arched spines.
It’s all fake. They kneel, suck, moan, and give me the reactions they think I want, all for a chance to score a ring and a commitment.
They don’t stand up to me. They never say no. It’s goddamn uninspiring. The exaggerated performance McKenna put on for me last night was just more of the same.
Unlike the others, however, Maybe Quinn is positively kinky. No pretense about it. In fact, she’s trying her damnedest to hide it from me.
Her pulse hammers beneath my palm, but she’s muting her gasps and clenching her teeth. She despises me and wants me, and dammit, I’m fucked.
She’s the one I’ve been waiting for.
Maybe I’m wrong.
God, I hope I’m suffering from temporary insanity.
I hover my face inches from hers, relishing the heave of her chest. “If I lift your dress, I bet I’ll find the wettest cunt in Oklahoma.”
She rears back a hand and slaps me with enough force to jerk my head to the side.
Momentarily stunned, I lose my grip on her throat, and she scurries out from beneath me.
I gotta hand it to her. She knows how to hit. My cheek throbs like a bitch, and I can’t decide if I’m burning with anger or wildly turned on. Both, I think.
Crawling out of arm’s reach, she leaps to her feet, loses her shoes along the way, and backs up.
“You should run.” I rise and prowl toward her.
“You don’t scare me.” She squares her shoulders and stands her ground.
So bold and beautiful. Resting my eyes on her is deeply satisfying, and I’m gripped with a sudden sense of necessity. An urgency to keep her in my presence. It’s an irrational feeling, but I can’t let it go. It’s already soaked into my bones and become a part of me.
I want her. Badly.
But I shouldn’t.
I can’t.
Maybe that explains my infatuation. She’s the forbidden fruit. An enemy to my family and everything I’m trying to rebuild.
That’s all the more reason to keep her close.
Until I’m certain she’s no longer a threat, I’ll have to watch her like a hawk and prevent her from doing anything stupid. The best way to do that is to bring her into my inner circle and build a foundation of trust.
Luring her into my bed wouldn’t just scratch this irritating itch. It would form a knot of togetherness between us. And let’s face it. I have a long track record of growing bored with a woman after one night.
I won’t get attached.
“You should be scared.” I take a menacing step closer. “I know your weakness.”
“What weakness?” Instead of retreating, she stays with me, circling with my steps and keeping me in front of her.
“One touch, and I know everything there is to know about your turn-ons.”
“How is that a weakness? Unlike you, I’m selective about who I jump into bed with.”
That’s a damn good response. If she weren’t trying to dig up my secrets, I would definitely keep her.
I focus on the challenge in her eyes. “Tell me what you hoped to gain by showing up on my doorstep.”
“I want to offer you a deal.”
“Explain.”
“You need to know what I know, and vice-versa. I give a little. You give a little. Back and forth, until we both have what we want.”
I want to tell her she has nothing I need, but that would be a lie. I need to know what she uncovered about the men we killed. I need to know every detail about her meeting with my dad. I need to hear her breathy pleas when I flog her with a crop, taste her tears when she begs me for release, feel how tight her pussy is when she clamps down on my cock.