Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
But she willingly made contact with me when she tried to blot the coffee splatter on my shirt. Her hands had fluttered around my torso like frantic flaps of a caged bird’s wings. And when I captured her wrists, her pulse jumped at the contact. I’d indulged myself, maintaining the domineering hold for longer than appropriate.
And when her wide, aqua eyes met mine, they held for the first time ever. Her pupils were huge and dark, dilated from either fear or desire.
Maybe both.
Thinking about that makes my arousal rise, so I push the memory away and take another sip of my drink.
If Abigail is afraid of men, I’ll prove to her that I’m capable of protecting her. She has no idea the lengths I’ll go to in order to keep her safely with me.
She rejected me.
That’s unacceptable.
I’ll find a way to woo her. She’ll come to my bed willingly, and she’ll offer her wrists for the shackle of my firm grip.
We’ll start with my hands. They’re more than strong enough to bind her fragile frame until she’s ready for the darker games that I need to play with her.
I settle into the shadows, watch her mind-numbing movie through my binoculars, and formulate a plan to sweep her off her feet.
4
ABBY
“Don’t scream.” The harsh, inhuman growl threads through the haze of my oxygen-starved brain. His gloved hand is clamped over my nose and mouth, and my muffled cries sputter and die as my lungs begin to burn. Darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision, making the midnight shadows in my apartment lengthen to obscure my limited view.
My cheek is pressed against the peeling ivory paint on the inside of my front door. His hard body cages mine from behind.
The shadows darken, and my lashes flutter. I’m going to float away. Only his firm grip is keeping me anchored to reality.
My knees fold, and his hard chest presses against my back as he releases a sharp curse. His massive body pins mine, preventing me from falling. His smothering hand drops from my face.
“Breathe.”
I suck in a ragged, desperate breath, and my entire body convulses at the burn of oxygen flooding my deprived lungs.
Before I can find the air to release a cry for help, icy metal kisses my throat, and my chest seizes again; I don’t dare to draw breath when the knife could pierce my skin at the smallest movement.
Spiky fear dances through my veins in sharp, sparkling snowflakes. The chill is thrilling even as it shreds me. A bizarre urge to release the unspent adrenaline on a maddened laugh bubbles up in my tight chest, but the knife at my throat renders me silent.
The gloved hand slides down the length of my arms, and my nerve endings jump at the perverse caress. Each of my fine hairs tickles as the buttery smooth leather brushes over my goosebumps.
His leather-clad fingers slide over my hair before skating down my nape. I shiver at the gentle contact. It’s so at odds with the violence of the scene that my mind spins into a surreal state. My eyes slide closed, trying hide from what’s happening to me.
I hear him inhale deeply, as though he’s savoring the scent of my abject terror. His chest rumbles at my back when he releases a low hum of primal, masculine satisfaction. The sound of his pleasure vibrates through me, making my heart stutter and my belly quake.
The gloved hand traces my side, exploring the dip at my waist and the soft curve of my hip. It splays possessively over my stomach, and he applies pressure to tuck me more tightly against his hard body.
Time blurs. As he touches me, exploring at his leisure, a strange heat blossoms beneath the surface of my skin. It makes my cheeks burn and my breath come in shallow pants, as though I’ve been running a mile in the Charleston summer.
“You’re wet.” The observation is as rough as his curse. With disapproval? Or desire?
Something slick coats his glove when he traces the shape of my lips: my own traitorous arousal.
“Look at me.”
I keep my eyes resolutely shut, hiding from the horror of the darkest part of my soul.
His fist tangles in my hair, wrenching my head back. Little sparks of pain light up my scalp, and my eyes fly open on a gasp.
“Look at me.”
Forest green eyes glow like some sort of demonic creature, bright points of light glowering from the darkened sockets of the skull. It stands out in macabre contrast to the black ski mask, fixing me with a perpetual, cruel grin.
“You’re so beautiful, Abigail.”
My name lilts on the last. That voice. That accent.
Those eyes…
I jolt awake in my bed, sitting bolt upright. My eyes dart around my darkened apartment, searching the shadows for signs of my attacker.
I hug my arms tightly to my chest and focus on my five senses.