Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
"This is about what I said in the library, isn't it?"
When her eyes widen, more horror bleeding into their depths, a small sound slips from her lips. It’s all the confirmation I need. I advance, trapping her between my forearms and pressing her into the wall. It's my favorite thing to do. To make her helpless and unable to escape me. "What’s the point of asking, Bel? You already know it doesn’t matter to me. You already know where I stand. I don’t care if you’re my sister.”
I lean in and run my nose along the line of her neck and shoulder, needing to smell her. God, how does she always smell so good? Like lilacs and baby powder. Who knew baby powder could be so mouth-watering?
"I bet," I whisper against her skin, loving how she trembles against me. "Even with the doubt, and disgust, and dread churning in your gut right now, you’d still open your legs for me. You’d still take my cock into your tight cunt. Even if it’s wrong, and it’s so fucking wrong to think about your brother fucking you, but you would. And like I said, I’d do it. I’d do it because rules, morals, and laws wouldn’t stop me from owning you. You’re mine forever.”
As if on instinct, she squeezes her thighs together, and when she releases them, I shove my thigh roughly between them, hiking her body up high enough that she’s basically sitting on my knee.
When I trail my mouth toward hers, teasing her lips with my breath, she flinches, and it's enough to allow me to push back an inch. In her green eyes, I see her fear and how much this is eating away at her.
Guilt blooms in my chest.
Fuck. I meet her gaze. "Luckily for you, we aren’t related. So you have nothing to feel bad about. You're still a good little girl, Flower.”
She flinches like I slapped her and shoves at my chest hard. Of course, I don't give her even an inch, but it's cute how she tries. "What the hell is wrong with you? You beg to see me for weeks, then you manipulate me into coming to meet you!" she screams, and I'm more surprised than anything else, both at her assumption and her raised voice.
I release my arms but keep my thigh pressed tight against her center. "What are you talking about?"
She growls and attempts to shove at me again, but I grab onto both of her wrists and hold them tight against my chest in one hand. "Watch it, Wallflower. I'm willing to give you some leeway…" I break off, not ready to go there yet. "But I won't allow you to shove me around and throw tantrums like a child.”
"A child?" she screeches and tries to pry herself free from my grasp. "I don’t think you’re ready to have a conversation about maturity, but since you brought it up and want to act tough, let’s do this. Should you even be here right now? Aren't you engaged to be married? Shouldn’t you be doing husbandly things? Planning a wedding? Picking out names for your 2.5 kids and a Labrador Retriever? Not sneaking around the woods with the ‘help’?”
Her words are razor sharp and sting as they slice through me, leaving behind jagged marks. I release her, adding several feet of space between us. I strip out of my jacket because the room is suddenly hot.
It doesn’t bother me that she’s brought up Spencer and my father. It bothers me that she talks so negatively about herself. It bothers me to be reminded of how I fed into things, how I just went along with my father’s demands. My jaw aches as I clench my teeth. Fists clenched, I feel the urge to punch something. Instead, I spin away from her and pace the room so I don't lash out, unleashing a sudden surge of anger on her.
Goddammit. I know I hurt her.
I know I did, but I’m trying to fix this. I want to fix this. I need to fix this.
I stab a hand through my hair, pulling on the long strands, willing an answer to come out of my mouth. I want her so bad it hurts to breathe. The mere thought of never having her in my arms again or having to see her with another man makes me want to commit murder. I’d never allow it. If she doesn’t want me, fine, but no other man will ever have her either.
"Yeah," she spits. "That's what I thought."
The venom in her tone intensifies my anger, but more than that, it’s the fact that she is wrong, and she doesn’t even realize it. Quick like a snake, I reach for her, my fingers pressing into her shoulder blades, forcing her back against the wall. A small gasp leaves her parted lips, and I lean right into her face. The air in my lungs stills, and I’m momentarily frozen in time by her beauty.