Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“They’re for security.” He shrugged. “It’s good to get a heads-up when you’re expecting someone.”
“Like my father?”
“Only apparently, he’s not coming.”
A jolt of doubt had me reeling.
My dad wouldn’t abandon me. He would search out where I was and demand my release. Or at least send someone to come get me and lower the risk to himself. That would make sense. I would forgive him that. I wouldn’t want anyone else hurt because of this man.
Despite all these doubts, I had to manage what was right in front of me—him.
“I’ve only known you a short time,” I began.
He seemed to guess where this was going, and his frown deepened.
“You seem reasonable. Other than the fact . . . you know.”
“Your point.”
“Whatever argument you have with my family is not with me. I’m caught in the middle. It’s not fair. I believe you’ll do the right thing.”
“Which is?”
I nudged a beignet on a plate toward him. “You know.”
He pushed the plate back my way. “Life’s not fair. That’s the first lesson you need to learn. Second, you leaving is nonnegotiable.”
“But—”
“I haven’t finished. The fact you’re able to move freely in my home is a goddamn privilege.”
“You can trust me—”
“Clearly, all evidence suggests—and I’m referring to that bottle of Chopin Reserve vodka you almost finished off last night—that you can’t even trust yourself.”
“Well, excuse me for trying to find ways to cope.” I glanced down at my half-empty plate. “I just wanted to feel better.” I wanted to forget.
“Do you?”
A stab of sorrow. “I don’t want to eat alone. I’m done eating alone.”
“You had Archie.”
“Not anymore.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m lonely.” I hated admitting it.
He rolled his eyes and reached for the pastry on his plate. The one I’d pushed in front of him. He lifted it to his mouth and took a bite. A quirk of a smile lit up his face as he chewed. Using his napkin to wipe his mouth, he nodded to show his approval. “Usually, I don’t like to have anything that . . .” He stopped himself from saying any more.
“You should never refuse yourself pleasure.”
He quirked a brow. “What do you know of pleasure?”
Playfully, I shoved the rest of my beignet into my mouth to show him and smiled through the bliss of perfection melting on my tongue, beaming.
Cassius’s expression softened as he reached out and wiped his thumb across my lips, using it to dust off a smudge of powder. Bringing it to his own mouth and sucking it clean of sugar.
“Isn’t it good?” I said, still breathlessly watching him.
He conceded with a smirk.
His tongue flickered to lick his mouth clean, and it looked dangerously alluring. A sensual teasing he seemed oblivious to.
I dipped my middle finger into the sugar on my plate and suckled on it, wondering what other places in the city I might get to see.
Cassius zeroed in on me, and it made me uneasy. As though he was seeing me in a different way for the first time.
“In other circumstances, we might have been friends,” I mused.
He gave a curious smile. “How exactly?”
“You could teach me things. Show me things I’ve never seen.”
“What sort of things would you like to see?”
“Everything,” I said breathlessly.
Our eyes locked.
I felt a tingle in my chest like a butterfly that was trapped within and was searching its way out; fluttering around my chest, making me giddy. Vaguely aware, his hand was reaching for my nape and was guiding me toward him, toward his mouth, soft and inviting.
After all this time of wondering what it would be like to kiss him, I could finally feel the pressure of his mouth on mine, gentle and coaxing.
Hesitant, I feared he’d pull away. Instead, he pressed harder until his tongue darted in, edging my mouth wider, our tongues battling, his more dominant and mine needy for his control, for him. Captured by his hand on my nape that was firm and masterful.
Yearning to be owned in these unfolding moments, I willingly fell into this silence between us, surrendering to what felt so right.
My racing heart was seemingly catching up with this passion I’d fallen into so naturally. A sudden fear it might end was mixed with a heady confusion that he was who I wanted to be with. Him who I craved. That all this time, I’d resisted my feelings toward him, refusing to allow my heart to go there.
His grip on my nape softened, and he leaned back and went to say something, stopping short of sharing his thoughts.
My cheeks grew warm as I glanced around to see if anyone had caught us, I couldn’t look at him for a minute. Instead, I wrapped my fingers around my mug.
He looked intrigued. “You’ve never been kissed before.”
“And you’ll never get to kiss me again.” I glowered.
If he was hurt, he wasn’t showing it.