Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
I’m heartened when his features go slightly softer. “I consider them brothers, but yes.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “And they know I don’t like obligations. If there’s a party, they don’t invite me. They accept my antisocial nature.”
“Were you always like this?” My tone of voice has risen to an unnatural pitch, my chest growing tight. So tight. We’re almost on the other side of the gate.
“No.”
I can feel him looking at me. The entire right side of my face is warm.
He sighs, reaching over to take hold of my chin, so I’m looking up at him and not at the approaching exit. “You want to hear a story?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“I’m going to tell you why I’m antisocial and you’re going to focus on me and not what’s happening outside the car, Greta.” His fingers splay on the side of my face, ever so slightly brushing my hairline. “What do we say when you’re scared?”
“Nothing gets through you. Not bullets, not acts of nature.” In need of comfort, I turn my face into his palm and swear I hear his intake of breath. “Not shrapnel or blades.”
“Nothing.”
I nod, knowing full well I shouldn’t be rubbing my cheek against his calloused hand, but it feels too nice, too reassuring to stop. “Tell me the story.”
“Story. Right.” He seems fascinated by my mouth. I knew red lipstick was a bold choice to visit the horses. I thought the boldness of the color might make me braver. He’s probably wondering if I did my makeup in the dark. “I was raised by a single mother and she loved parties. She was a good sort. A big talker. Loved to laugh. She was always the last to leave a celebration and that meant I was the last to leave, too. Parties were too loud for my taste, too messy.” He shook his head, as if to banish the concept of parties forever. “Most of the time, she didn’t drink so much that she couldn’t see us home, but one time when I was thirteen, she did. It was a New Year’s Eve party and she drank her weight in champagne. She couldn’t drive in that condition, so we walked home in the pitch-black countryside and she was singing so loud that neither one of us heard the river. Both of us fell straight into an icy cold current and got carried a full mile before I could grab a branch and pull us out. The whole time we were being carried down the stream and I was struggling to keep my mother above water, I vowed I would never attend another party as long as I lived. I just wanted to be home. Alone. In the quiet. And that never changed.”
I must be positively gaping at him. “Is that really a true story?”
“I don’t tell lies to my princess.”
There’s a suspicious tug between my legs in response to him calling me his princess. The kind of tug I’ve never felt before. It’s followed by a hot, liquid squeeze.
Oh my.
How silly to focus on his phrasing. I’m everyone’s princess, technically.
That’s all he meant.
“Where is your mother now?”
“Still in the countryside. Still likes to party.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s a layer of fondness there. “I suppose I’m due to visit.”
“You’ll be able to go see her soon. Very soon.” I glance outside the window and see rolling hills, the city in the distance, and realization dawns, but I try not to make a big deal out of the fact that I’ve officially left the palace. “Look at me, I’m outside the palace walls. You’re one step closer to—”
An explosion rents the air and I’m tackled sideways onto the seat, Conrad on top of me, his hard body pinning me while his breath rages raggedly in my ear. I’m freezing cold in a split second, shivering like I’m the one being carried down an icy river, my legs wrapping around his hips, my shaking hands creeping up around the wide breadth of his back to pull him closer. As close as possible.
“The other SUV backfired,” he says, dropping his face into my neck, his immense relief evident in the way he shudders. “False alarm, princess. I’m sorry.” I hear him swallow and sense an internal struggle taking place, before he nuzzles the crook of my neck. “You’re okay, baby. Shhh. Just a loud noise.”
I’m desperate to ground myself, for the world to stop spinning too fast. “Can you tell me another story?”
He shifts slightly on top of me, in order to look me in the eye, our foreheads pressing together and…I gulp over the rugged muscle that rides over my softness when he moves. In places where I’ve never experienced a man’s body in such an intimate fashion. His hips are large and thick, opening my legs inappropriately, his chest crushing my breasts, but not in an unpleasant way. No, that liquid melt is happening again between my legs and it reddens my skin, makes me feel swollen and achy in odd places.