Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“Don’t get any ideas. We’ll pick the kid up, and I’ll take you where you need to go.” I forgot how well he knows me. Or used to anyway.
“Her name is Jasmine.” I say it defensively.
“Jasmine,” he repeats, glancing my way, and he offers me a half smile. A dimple appears on his right cheek.
A familiar flutter that only he could give me returns. I have always loved his dimples. Every time I’d kiss his cheek, I made sure it was on one of them. Then West started to turn his head whenever I did so that our lips would brush, until he finally kissed me on my fifteenth birthday. It was the most special birthday I’ve ever had.
“You’re protective of her.”
“I adore her.”
“You always wanted to be a mom.” I know he’s not trying to be insensitive, but his words strike a chord in me. I have always wanted to be a mom. I had planned for it to be of his children, but that didn’t work out for me. I might not have loved the foster care homes, but I did love all the children together. It was why I wanted to teach.
“She’s not mine.” I wish. Then I could take her. I could really protect her then. Or maybe not. Mr. Ware is a very rich man.
“Is that what you want?”
“What?” He can’t mean what I think he does.
“For her to be yours?”
“I want her to be safe and happy.” To not be terrorized. No little girl should have to live that way. I don’t understand Gideon’s need to torment her. Then again, do we ever know why crazy people do the things they do?
“What is that?” West asks when the SUV rolls to a stop at the light. He grips my chin between his thumb and index finger to tilt my head to the side.
“What?”
“A small bruise.” I pull back from his hold to flip down the sun visor to get a look in the mirror for myself. There is a small bruise from when Roberta struck me. It must have started to form only now.
“I don’t know.” I flip the visor back into place. There is no way I’m going to admit to West how I acquired the bruise in question.
“You’re starting to piss me off with the lying.”
“Well, you’re just pissing me off in general!” I throw my hands up. “It’s a stupid bruise. It doesn’t matter.”
“It fucking matters,” he bites out. “Was it Thomas?”
I jerk around at his question. “You really have dug into my life.” I shake my head, fighting the sting of tears.
“Was it him?”
“No.” That one I can answer honestly. “Such bullshit,” I mutter.
“Sweetness.” West’s hand comes down on my thigh.
“No, West!” I break. I’m so mad about the fucked-up shit I’m dealing with at the Ware’s and now this. “It’s clear you have known where I’ve been for a while, Mr. I bought you a school and I also know where you live and what you’re up to. It’s all bullshit!” I shout the last words. “Then, where have you been? Why did you leave me? Do you not know how to call or even send a text?”
“It’s not—”
“I don’t give a shit what it’s like, Weston.” I use his full name, knowing it will hit the bullseye and piss him off. “You couldn’t have missed me that much.” I jerk off my seat belt as we pull up to the museum. “Just forget about me like the rest of the world.” I try to open the door, but it won’t. “Unlock it.”
“No.”
“I swear to God if you don’t—” I’m cut off when West’s hand cups the back of my neck, pulling me toward him.
“You might have liked me, loved me, but I fucking love you, Vasey,” he grits out before he takes my mouth in a hard kiss.
Chapter Eight
WEST
Touching her is a mistake. Kissing her is fatal. The desire I’ve suppressed for the past decade rushes to the surface. This kind of love never dies. I devour her. I dig my hands into her hair, pulling her close. There’s too much distance between us, too many clothes. I angle her head so I can gain deeper access.
My hold is tight and fierce. Her body can’t move, but her mouth can. Her lips part. Her tongue battles mine. The fire between us has never died. I taste the hunger on her tongue. I run one hand down her arm and stop at her waist. I need her on top of me. I need to be inside her. My fingers search for a zipper. My fierce want rings in my ears, an incessant buzz of longing blaring in my head.
“West!” Vasey pushes me back.
I blink at her in confusion and then shake my head. The ringing isn’t my lust, it’s my driver. I lower the divider. He gives me an apologetic grimace. “We’re here, Sir.”