Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Okay. That was unexpected.
“I missed you, Victor Tudor,” I murmur against his surprised smirk.
“You finally missed me, yeah? I’ll let you show me how much after . . .”
“After what?” I press my soft body against his.
“You forgive me, Little One. I’ve not asked for forgiveness, but once in my life, love.”
First Emeli.
Now me.
That silly little vessel in my chest palpitates.
Swift.
Swift.
Faster.
Flip-flopping in my chest cavity. I have come to realize that Victor Tudor loves his late wife and me with the same heart.
“Don’t apologize. I got scared a second ago, starting nagging—”
“Lux, you had every right.”
As I look up at the love of my life, I get lost in the moment.
“What?” he asks in that adorable British accent.
Adorable? Now I’m questioning myself too. “You changed,” I murmur before my body responds to his invitation. Victor’s presence, demeanor, all of him, entices me to lift onto my tippy-toes. The polarity of our kiss is dripping in lust and adulation alike.
“Alright,” I moan, dizzy with desire. “Apologize if you must.”
“I truly must, Little One.” Victor’s callused thumb wipes away the happy tears from my cheeks.
Though tender, he tenses as he elaborates, “For not being there.”
“Vic, stop. You saved me.” I gasp and then laugh at the insanity of it all. “How many men have gone to a foreign country to save the one they love? If the situation were reversed, I’d have prayed for you and cried myself to death—”
“You’re a woman.”
I tilt my head. “You haven’t changed.”
“I mean, you’re a twee woman.”
“Hardy har, Kiss my ass, Victor.” I frame the sharp edges of his jaw in my hands. “Vic, seriously, you’re a friggen human. Okay, baby? I know you want to be invincible.”
“I agree with that analysis, until forty-eight hours ago. I became invincible. Just to get back to you.” He says it in a way that is so believable.
With him still leaning down, I take a tiny hunk of his bottom lip between my teeth for a titillating nibble. “You are to me.”
Victor’s hands graze up my arms to my shoulders and then sweep to the pulse at my neck as he kisses my collarbone tenderly. God, I need him to make love to me, mind, body, soul. Yet, heaviness still weighs down my heart. So, by the grace of God, I turn my head away and mumble, “Victor, I can't go back to that world, your world.”
He's silent for a while. Those passionate smooches that have adorned me stop. “That wasn’t my expectation, Lux. Will you be my equal?”
“Victor, listen to me, baby.” I choke back the words, not telling him how his best friend carried out her entire plan. I know it won’t be easy for Victor to stop being so commanding. Truly, I actually love that about him. But what I need from him . . . it’s like asking the world. Yes, it’s probably for the best that I handle Madeline alone.
She stole from me alone. Not Victor. I believe, at this second, revealing her actions would be setting him up for failure. He won’t understand that Madeline is my score. Not his.
“I've renounced my duchy, Lux,” Victor says, snatching me away from tormented thoughts.
“But I didn't want . . .” My words die as I look into the eyes of a man that will do anything for me. “Vic, you have a business. A town that depends on you and—”
“I have no duchy. I have the means to remotely conduct business, and I’ll commute when necessary. My board members will be elated by my continual absence. Trust me.”
I chuckle at the latter, wondering when he’ll feel comfortable further discussing renouncing his title. “I can imagine the board members’ delight. You’re commanding. I won’t tolerate that either,” I remind him.
Victor stands tall. A friggen giant, declaring, “I said my equal.”
“All right. Will you get down here!” With a giddy grin, I point my index finger to the floor. Instantly, Victor drops to his knees.
“How may I service you, love?” he asks. The cocky aura surrounding him melds divinely with his British accent. Victor’s hands graze beneath my long pajama shirt.
“I want your mouth on my sex,” I order, legs planted wide in a dominating stance. A large, dangerous hand grips my ass. The other tugs me from the silk shirt and gives the same malicious attention to my matching pajama pants.
“Victor,” I say as he shreds the thong from my skin. The titillating rip makes a flood gush through my nether regions. My leg hooks around the back of Victor’s shoulder as he plants kisses on my knee. He looks up at me while he blows, giving it thoughtful dedication.
Thrills shoot through my body. The one foot I’ve got planted on the ground fails me. I’ve gone weak with most of my weight resting on his shoulder.