Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
And I don’t regret a thing. No, that’s not true. I regret one thing.
Camille’s face when I snapped out of my blind rage. She saw the darkness in me. A darkness I need to hide, especially from her. Her eyes were full of questions. The instinct and urge to answer them, to share my burden, is there. This woman is doing things to me that I loathe and love in equal measure. I read up on her. I fell into the camp of idiots who think they have this young woman nailed. With parents like hers and the media’s ability to twist innocent scenarios to create gossip, plus the influence of a toxic boyfriend, everyone in London thinks they have Camille Logan all figured out. I was in her company for a few minutes and concluded what I’d read was grossly inaccurate. Those who know her well will know it’s a load of bollocks, too, but this world is full of cynics. This world is full of people who thrive on others’ misfortune.
A soft murmur and stir has my heart shouting its presence in my chest and my vertebrae uncoiling from my slouched position. I let all my conflicting thoughts fall away and watch in silence as her exposed naked body stretches lazily atop the sheets.
My cock wakes up, too.
I groan as I reach down and lay a palm over my groin, forcing it to remain flat against my thigh. My attempts are in vain. The pink tips of her perfect breasts are calling to me, making my bare feet twitch on the carpet. I’m rigid in the chair, frantically trying to summon some restraint. It’s the most challenging task I’ve ever undertaken. Everything inside me is willing me to her, telling me my place is next to her in that bed, holding her, protecting her. I’m not going to insult my instinct and tell myself it’s the professional protector in me. It’s more than that. I buried myself in her body and fucked her with a delicacy that I didn’t know I was capable of.
My need to protect this woman isn’t duty. It’s instinct.
Her eyes flutter open, and I study her as she gathers her bearings. I can see her mind playing catch up, reminding her of the events of last night. I know when she’s remembering dinner with her overbearing mother. It makes me smile, recalling her laughter. I see when she remembers the scene in the bar toilets, her eyes going round and her hand coming up to the mark on her creamy cheek. And I see when she mentally finds herself back here with me, her body stilling as if trying to figure out whether it was a dream or not. I find my body stilling, too, my heart slowing to a dull kick in my chest. Her small hitch of breath that comes next triggers my own, and she bolts upright in bed and frantically scans the room.
Over here, angel.
I only just block the mental command from voicing itself, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need me to call her.
She finds me in a heartbeat, her sparkling blues landing on me with a bang, before she drops them, scanning her lap. She shakes her head, as if trying to reason with herself, and then slowly lifts her gaze to mine. The fire inside of me continues to rage.
“Come back to bed,” she whispers, as if unsure whether that’s a good idea. I know I should refuse her— I’ve said the words a thousand times to many women.
But the words don’t come.
I can’t find them.
And I’m searching really hard.
I study her sitting on the bed, her hair an adorable mess around her gorgeous face, her long, slim limbs a tangle of trembling uncertainty. I stop trying to find my rejection. I don’t want to find it.
I free my cock from the constraints of my palm, letting it do as it damn well pleases. And it wants to jut from my groin, like it’s pointing the way. It doesn’t escape Camille’s notice, her eyes—mixed with hope and nerves—dropping to my lap, her lips parting to reveal her glistening tongue. Slowly standing from the chair, I use each second it takes me to rise to my full height to accept my fate.
I’m going nowhere. She is my fate.
It isn’t something I’m prepared to fight. All of my doubts and self-hatred dull at the sight of her big, round eyes looking up at me. Because by the look of her quivering, looking scared and unsure and…hopeful, she wants me as badly as I want her.
I might not understand it, but I’m also not prepared to ignore it. My past isn’t the only challenge I’ll face to be with her. There’s also her father, the agency, her ex. There are a pile of issues in my way, and they all need dealing with. I’m not going to pretend it will be easy. But for her…