Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“That chain around your ankle is the only thing stopping me from doing what I’ve wanted to do since the moment I saw you in my hotel room.”
She blinked and subtly shrank away. It made me want to reach out and pull her closer. “Finish your meal and get some sleep.”
I took one last look at her and then left the room before I did something I couldn’t undo. I never had an issue controlling myself or with being patient. Lolita had been home less than a day and I could already tell I would struggle to uphold those values when it came to her. She wanted the chain removed, but it was the only thing keeping her safe from me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I couldn’t believe I’d fallen asleep. Not only that, but I’d slept better than I had in weeks. I wanted to blame Mr. Hawthorne and accuse him of drugging me again, but the exhaustion that settled into my bones was a result of everything catching up to me.
One of the first things I noticed upon waking was that he or someone else had been in here while I slept. The second thing I realized was that the house was no longer quiet. I could hear pots and pans clanking, followed by an occasional feminine voice. The aroma of bacon wafted through the air and caused my stomach to growl.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this hungry. It felt like days had passed since Mr. Hawthorne brought me a plate of fruit. There was no one to blame for that but myself. It was stupid of me to have refused food when I hadn’t eaten since being at work. A hunger strike wouldn’t bring freedom or escape. It would only weaken me. That was the last thing I needed, to be so stubborn I put myself in a more vulnerable position.
I looked towards the windows and saw hints of sunlight stretching beneath the drapes. It was most likely early morning. I slid from the bed and tugged the excess chain along with me as I entered the bathroom.
After wearing the same clothes for going on two days—a work uniform—and not being able to shower, I felt gross and in desperate need of some personal hygiene.
Maybe it was a trivial concern considering my predicament, but brushing my teeth was one small normalcy I wanted to take advantage of. I took my time applying toothpaste and going through the motions. I rinsed my mouth with water from the faucet and then splashed some on my face.
When I opened my eyes, I found Mr. Hawthorne’s in the make-do mirror. I whirled around with my heart in my throat and took a few steps back. I hadn’t heard him enter the room or come up behind me. He stood in the doorway, dressed differently from last night but still just as sharp.
Every time I saw him, he was dressed so formally. Today it was a black dress shirt beneath a vest that was meticulously tailored to his cut body, making him appear even more imposing than he already was. A dash of color was added with a deep crimson cravat secured by a silver pin.
“Good morning,” he said softly, clearly amused by my reaction.
The small space seemed to grow even smaller when he stepped forward and shut the sink off. His dark hair was damp from a recent shower, the stubble lining his jawline freshly trimmed.
I took a breath and inhaled the exotic scent of his cologne. Something about it was irrationally calming. I studied his side profile and cursed myself for still being unable to deny how gorgeous he was. It made this all the more confusing. I knew someone’s appearance wasn’t a direct correlation with the way they behaved, but I doubted he struggled with finding a woman to entertain.
He turned and surveyed me from head to toe. I was suddenly overcome with a nervousness I hadn’t felt since I was in high school. I reached up to smooth down my hair without realizing I had done so.
“Don’t.” He grabbed me by the wrist and gently pulled my arm back down. “You’re beautiful exactly as you are right now.”
Thanking him didn’t seem appropriate, so I said nothing. He released me and stepped forward, almost bringing our bodies together. And then his hands were cradling my face.
“Relax,” he demanded softly, his thumbs gently brushing the water droplets from my cheeks. His lips were so close I could smell the minty mouthwash he’d used on his breath. He tucked some of my hair behind one of my ears before lowering his hands.
“You can shower after we’re done.”
His words had me taking another step back, and with nowhere left to go, my back hit the wall. Unperturbed, he followed, crouching when he was right in front of me. Seeing this man nearly on his knees tangled my stomach into a knot.