Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 112457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Her gaze shifted to his hard-on again. “Does this always happen?”
When he didn’t answer, she lifted her eyes and caught him watching her with an intense expression.
“The truth?” he asked.
“Always.”
“With you, it does.” Placing his hands on her knees, he brought his face close to hers. “Truth?”
Mesmerized by the seductive look in his eyes, she nodded.
“It’s not you. Not a stitch of magic in your bones.”
Oh. She’d expected him to elaborate on his lust. He still looked like he wanted to devour her, but she was grateful he’d brought them back to the subject she should be concentrating on.
Ashamed of her thoughts, she said, “Are you sure?”
His gaze was level. “Yes.”
Why wasn’t she relieved? A part of her still doubted his verdict.
“Can we go to bed now?” he asked, straightening. “It’s been a hell of a day. We can both do with some rest.”
Was he suggesting—
“Don’t worry,” he said, his smirk back in place. “I won’t touch you.”
She took a deep breath, inhaling the stale, musty air of the room. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
She ran a finger around the bandage on her wrist. “Are you going to handcuff me?”
“I don’t need to. I’m a light sleeper.”
“Can’t you sleep in another room?”
“There’s only this bed.”
She wasn’t going to show him how little confidence she had in her self-control. Lying down, she moved to the edge of the mattress. He climbed onto the bed and turned on his side, throwing an arm around her waist.
She stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“Restraining you,” he mumbled, unfazed about his hard-on that pressed against her backside. “Go to sleep.”
His arm was heavy and his body warm. Even if she scooted closer to the wall, the bed was too narrow for their bodies not to touch. The irony didn’t escape her. How many times had she dreamt about being in his bedroom and sharing his bed? She’d imagined the scene a myriad of times while standing under his window, watching him smoke, but she could never have guessed it would be like this.
When his rhythmic breathing fanned over her neck, she let out the breath she’d been holding. The tenseness left her body. The scent of soap—a plain, white bar—chased away the musty smell of the wall.
She wanted to stay vigilant, but the last two days had been exhausting. Soon, her eyelids drooped. Despite her resolution not to give in, she fell asleep quickly. Her dreams were filled with erotic images of Joss. Those scenarios tortured her, making need pulse between her legs until she woke up sweating and hot, her back still flush against Joss’s chest. Her body ached from being in the same position for too long. Trying to move as quietly as possible under the heavy weight of Joss’s arm, she turned.
She’d barely settled on her back when Joss striked. Clamping a hand around her neck, he tightened his fingers with bruising force. She tried to cry out, but the only sound that escaped her lips was a croak. She couldn’t breathe.
She swatted at him, but he only squeezed harder. She clawed at his arms. He was going to strangle her. She fought rougher, trying to kick and throw him off, but he easily stilled her efforts by rolling over her, pressing the little air she had left from her lungs with his weight. She dug her nails into his biceps, but her efforts were futile.
Just as black spots popped behind her eyes, Joss’s eyes focused. His pupils contracted in the soft glow of the lamp as shock registered on his face. He withdrew his hand as if from a fire, finally giving her access to much needed oxygen. She gulped air into her burning lungs. Sitting back onto his heels, he stared at her with round eyes while she tried to steady her breathing.
“Fuck, Cle.” He slipped his hands under her arms and pulled her into a sitting position. “Breathe. That’s good. Just like that.”
She was like a ragdoll, fighting a dizzy spell that made her head turn.
“You frightened me,” he said.
She pushed on his chest to create distance between them and said in a hoarse voice, “So you strangled me?”
He climbed off her. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he threaded his fingers through his hair. “I could’ve fucking killed you.”
“Isn’t that the plan eventually?”
He glanced sideways at her, the look in his eyes haunted. That look scared her more than the fingers he’d had clamped around her throat a minute ago, because she saw the conflict in those silver depths. The truth. It was as good as admitting out loud it would come to that.
Swinging her legs off the bed, she pushed past him. She had to escape, even if it was only as far as the bathroom. She needed space from him.
A big hand clamped down on her shoulder, holding her back. “I’ll sleep in the hall.”