Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
We close the space between it and us, that combustible need between us, just that, combustible. I’m burning alive, anxiously enough that my hand trembles as I unlock my door. So much so that Eric takes my key from me and finishes the job. We enter the house directly into the kitchen, white stone beneath our feet. I flip on the light, illuminating an island in more white stone, and cabinets a slate gray wood wrapping a half-moon-shaped room. I slip off my coat and set it on a barstool, turning to face Eric as he shuts the door and locks it.
We don’t speak. We don’t really have words on our mind.
He shrugs out of his coat, his T-shirt stretching over his broad chest, before he drops it on a stool next to mine, his eyes never leaving me. He steps close, aligning our bodies, and I feel the heat of him, the change in us. This isn’t a power play. This isn’t hate anymore.
His hands frame my face. “I nicknamed you princess because you were so fucking beautiful and regal standing there by the pool that night.”
The compliment sizzles through me, but I reject the comparison, and the idea it suggests that I am somehow above him. That we are not the same. “I wasn’t regal,” I say. “I don’t want you to think of me that way.”
“In a good way, sweetheart. This is me telling you that you had me before hello.”
It’s everything I want to hear from this man, perhaps too much, because I’m not sure how long he’ll be in my life. I just know it won’t be long enough. “Did you know it was me? Did you know who I was?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I knew it was you. I’d seen pictures.”
“And?”
“And I knew I should stay away,” I admit.
“Why?”
“That whole forbidden, taboo stepsibling thing.”
“And yet you still came to the cottage?”
I laugh. “You made me mad.”
“Let me make it up to you,” he says, claiming my mouth, the first lick of his tongue driving me wild. I moan and that’s all it takes. We’re crazy, wild, kissing, his hands sliding over my waist, over my hips, cupping my backside. I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel warm skin over taut muscle. Desperate to feel him. He presses his hand under my skirt and that’s when my doorbell rings.
We stiffen, eyes colliding in surprise. “Expecting company?” he asks.
“No. No one visits me.”
He pulls my skirt down and strokes my hair again. “Get rid of whoever it is.”
I nod and hurry down a hallway that leads to the front door. I peek through the curtain to find my mother standing there. “Oh God.” I rotate to find Eric in the hallway.
I hurry toward him, eager to prepare him for the storm soon upon us and already, my doorbell rings yet again. “It’s my mother,” I say softly. “She’s going to go off on me about you.”
“Are you saying you want me to leave?”
“No, I want you to stay, but I don’t trust her not to repeat everything to your father.”
“You want to save her but you don’t trust her?”
“She’s not logical with him.”
“I’ll choose my words with that in mind.”
“Okay.” I give him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about this.”
He cups my head and kisses me. “Make it up to me.”
He’s teasing but I don’t smile. “I will,” I promise, and I love that he’s being so easygoing about this.
I hurry back to the door and open it. My mother is standing there, looking stunning and far younger than her forty-six years, her ivory skin pale perfection, her black pantsuit sleek and elegant, her dark hair in waves around her shoulders. “Why haven’t you called me back?” she demands.
“Come in, mom,” I say, backing up to allow her entry.
She steps into the foyer and her eyes lock on Eric. “What the hell is he doing in your house?” she demands and then pins me in a stare. “Don’t you even know why he came here?” Her scathing attention lands on Eric. “I know why you’re here.”
Chapter twenty-five
Harper
“Iknow what you’re doing,” my mother snaps at Eric again, and my God, she charges at him so quickly that I barely have time to put myself between them.
“Mom!” I shout urgently, my hands catching her arms. “Stop. Stop it right now.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we need him. And as for why he’s here, he’s here because I went to New York. I found him. I asked him to come here.”
“Then you’re a fool. We have something to lose, and he has everything to gain.”
Frustration and anger shorten my patience. “He’s a billionaire, mother. He doesn’t need anything from this family.”
“He’s not a billionaire.”
“Yes,” I say. “He is.”
“It doesn’t matter what he is or isn’t. We are your family. He is not.”