Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I feel like a whore. I know what no sounds like even though the men in my previous life never did, but when I pull away, he doesn't let me get very far.
I don't know why the rejection stings so badly. I should be ecstatic that he isn't expecting me to follow through with pleasing him in exchange for the help and support he's offered me.
"You're more than welcome to stay in the bed though," he says. Honestly, I really think he's giving me options, and from the sound of it, he'd be okay with either decision I make. That has to be a first for me.
With Xan and Nathan, options were always tied with tests and challenges. There was always one choice more correct than the others, and I don't think they knew which one was right even when they offered them.
I climb off him, shifting my weight more to the center of the bed rather than settling back on the edge. Beck rolls away from me, pointing his back in my direction. It tells me one of two things—either he trusts me to be back here or he believes I'm not a threat.
It would probably be best if I climbed out of his space and went back into the closet, but every muscle in my body aches. Just sitting here on the mattress is enough to tell me that this bed is more than a little comfortable.
I start chewing on my thumbnail, anticipating him telling me to lie down or get out, but he never does.
After a few minutes, I lie flat on my back and stare up at the ceiling. Clouds moving in front of the moon cast even more shadows, but the eeriness that normally hits me doesn't show up.
I lie there for at least two more hours before climbing under the covers, sure that my shivering in the cold room has been keeping him awake, but he never says another word.
I toss and turn for another hour before falling asleep beside him.
Chapter 17
Newton
I keep my eyes on her when I climb out of the bed, and I see the second her brain comes back online.
She opens her eyes, much too awake for someone who feels as if she has the luxury of taking her time.
I hate the men who put that fear in her. It makes me want to watch Xan die all over again while his father's corpse rots at his feet. Men like the Adairs don't deserve to breathe the same air as everyone else. They're poison, cancerous. Evil men who think the world owes them something and that they can take and take with no repercussions.
I hope Xan's body rots at the coroner's office. If it weren't for the pain I want to inflict on Nathan Adair myself, I'd wish that someone in jail stabbed a concrete sharpened toothbrush right into his heart and cackled while he died.
I clear my throat when she looks at me, eyes full of fear.
"You're safe," I tell her.
Honestly, she could be in danger, but it would take a lot of death and destruction before anyone could harm her.
She rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands, and the darkness under them isn't surprising. I know she eventually fell asleep last night, but she tossed and turned all night.
When I offered her the opportunity to stay in the bed, I was hoping that maybe she'd be a little more comfortable and she could sleep better. Clearly, that wasn't the case. With how little rest she did get, I'm left wondering if maybe she didn't feel like it wasn’t an offer at all but a command for her to stay.
"I'm getting ready to head to breakfast," I explain.
Her eyes rake down my body, and I fight the urge to move my hands in front of it because it would only make me look guilty. I already feel enough of that for not stopping her last night when she climbed on the bed.
"Can you wait for me?" she asks as she sits up. "I'd like to leave the room again."
"Sure," I tell her, trying to hide the shock in my tone. "I can wait. Do you want to go first?"
She follows the point of my finger toward the bathroom door, but when she looks back at me, she shakes her head.
"You go first."
I don't waste a second grabbing my things and leaving the room. Just the sight of her on my bed, lines on her cheeks, and her voice a little husky from lack of use for hours puts me on edge.
I feel like a deviant doing what I need to do in the bathroom to keep myself under control. Stroking my cock in the shower feels like a perverse thing to do, considering the kiss last night was only because of some fucked-up mindset of hers that any niceness that comes her way has to be repaid somehow.