Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
God, it was instant.
The whooshing, warming hope.
I clung to it.
Basked in it.
I didn’t care how ludicrous it sounded. I needed to believe in something, and if that something was him…then I would get on my knees and pray to him.
“Are you? Am I right?” I lowered my lashes, jolting as I noticed all over again that I was bare, and his fully-clothed body crowded me against the bookshelves. The bulge in his shorts pressed against my lower belly. His own stomach rising and falling with all the things he couldn’t confess and all the mistakes that’d happened.
I’d thought he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen back at the club. I’d been drawn to him in ways I couldn’t explain. He’d tarnished both those things with his actions ever since, but now…that beauty returned. That unfathomable connection simmered. If he truly was good masquerading as evil, then…he wasn’t just a man I’d been drawn to but the very salvation I needed.
How soon was someone coming?
How many officers would swarm this place?
Would they shoot every last one of Victor’s disgusting guests? Would they arrest them and interrogate them and line them up before a jury of their peers?
Suddenly, I was strong again. Ready to fight, endure, and survive.
I looked up, frowning when Henri didn’t reply.
His eyes had shut down, his face utterly unreadable.
My hope stuttered as quickly as it’d formed.
My fear returned.
Ily…you dolt.
My imagination had run away with me, like always.
I’d let hope bandage over panic, and the crash into truth hurt ever so much.
“Wow, I’m an idiot.” Horrified goosebumps scattered. “T-There’s no one coming to save us…is there.”
God…I’m so, so stupid.
Henri cursed hotly. “Bon dieu, tu vas me tuer.” (My God, you’re going to kill me.)
His slur sank like poison into my blood.
I trembled and fought another wash of unwanted tears.
His eyes snapped to mine; his entire face twisted. “If you cry again, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
I sniffed. Rubbed at my lashes.
A single droplet fell.
He snarled and fisted both hands into my hair, holding me completely still.
I flinched, waiting for abuse, for pain.
His tongue captured the slowly rolling droplet, drinking it down before a harsh gasp escaped him. “Goddammit, just listen to me. Do what I ask instead of making this so much harder.”
I struggled in his grasp, but he pressed his hips against my stomach, forcing me to feel the thick ridge of his arousal.
“Feel that? That’s because of your tears. That’s because I can’t stop thinking about how delicious you’d be if I made you sob. Truly sob. Ugly fucking wracking sobs. If you sobbed because I hurt you? Shit, I’d lose myself. I don’t want to snap. And I don’t want to hurt you, despite the fact I really fucking do.”
My breath caught, my mind racing at his contradictions. “If you want to, then…what’s stopping you?”
“You know what.”
I moaned as he jerked my head back, his fingers tight in my hair. My voice was far too feeble, desperately trying to understand without getting carried away with wishful thinking. “I don’t. I don’t know a damn thing.” I fought the stinging urge to cry again. “Please…just tell me. Tell me how this ends. Please—”
“Quiet.” His fingers opened and closed in my hair as if fighting his true nature.
If he was going to hurt me like he said in the foyer…he would’ve done so by now.
Wouldn’t he?
Perhaps I wasn’t so stupid to grasp at fairytales.
Maybe my mind wasn’t playing tricks after all.
It took every shred of strength to press a hand over his drumming heart. “Tell me. Tell me what you aren’t saying. Tell me why I sense that you’re different.”
“I’m different?” He chuckled. “And here I was thinking the same about you.” His brows came down. “You’re the one who’s different, Ily, and it’s a right pain in my ass.”
I stilled.
What did he mean by that?
Swallowing hard, I whispered for the third time, “Who are you?”
“Qui suis je?” (Who am I?) Grabbing my jaw, he shoved my head to the side, then breathed hotly. “I’m the man doing his best, all while knowing it will never be good enough.”
I didn’t fight his hold. To the cameras, it would look as if I was catatonic with panic. To be honest, that wasn’t far from reality.
Henri successfully deleted any foundation I had. He made me doubt. Made me question. Made me hope.
And that was by far the cruellest thing he could ever do.
“Please…” I murmured. “Just tell me.”
He let loose a slurry of slurs. “I knew this would be hard, but I wasn’t prepared for it to be impossible.”
“What’s impossible?”
“You.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Fuck.”
I trembled in his hold.
He didn’t speak for the longest moment, all while his hips remained plastered against my stomach. The longer he held me, the faster my heart raced. An awful recipe of awareness and wishing turned me inside out.