Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
“You good?” Butcher grunts from behind me.
“You look tense enough to spring from here to the roof.” Bianca frowns. “Are you all right?”
“I’m good.” I roll my shoulders. “Don’t worry.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t seem convinced, but she pulls on Butcher’s arm. “Come on. I want to see how many victims Carina has to choose from.”
“Victims?” Butcher’s lip twitches. “I like it.” He leads her into the dining room, where the voices are still humming.
I turn and look up the stairs.
For some reason, that’s the exact second Carina walks into view on the landing.
My heart seems to shudder and seize, everything inside me grinding to a halt before jumping forward at ten times the normal speed. She’s wearing a light blue dress that wraps tightly around her chest, hugging her breasts and then flaring out in gauzy fabric that barely reaches mid-thigh.
I stare at her face, at her bright blue eyes that seem to consume everything they see–including me.
She meets my gaze, and her chin rises in challenge as she walks to the stairs, her heels giving her hips even more sway. A temptress, an irresistible demon sent to torment me–she’s all those things and more.
When she reaches the floor, she stops for a moment before slowly walking to me, her hips swaying in that tantalizing way. I can’t speak, can’t think. This is the first time we’ve come face to face since the pantry. I’d counseled myself over and over again that I was to keep my cool, to keep my hands to myself.
But now … Now that thing inside me that snapped before–it’s already bent to the breaking point, and she hasn’t even opened her smart mouth yet.
“You like it?” she asks, her voice sultry.
My tongue feels two sizes too large. “Yes.”
She gives me a wicked half smile. “That’s too bad. Because it’s not for you.” She moves to step past me.
Snap.
Before I can even form a single thought, I’ve grabbed her arm, yanked her to me, and gripped her throat.
“Everything you have is for me, little brat. Everything.”
10
CARINA
The one word everything takes all the air from my lungs. I’m sure it’s not helping that Gilly has his hand wrapped around my throat. I should be screaming at him or even smacking and clawing him, but I’m so shocked I stand there unmoving, letting him keep his firm grip on me. His hold is letting me know he’s in full control. Not only that; anyone could catch us right now.
“Gilly?” I try to say his name without emotion, but it comes out in a moan instead. Why can my body and mind never stay on the same page when it comes to this man? No matter how many times I tell myself that he and I will never be, the second he touches me, I melt. Right now, I’m a damn puddle.
“Everything,” he repeats before he starts to move while keeping his grip on my throat.
His other hand wraps around my waist, my feet leaving the floor. Within a few steps, he has us inside the bathroom. He puts me down on my feet, but his hand around my throat never leaves, even when he turns and flips the lock on the door. The sound echoes loudly in the small powder room. I’d never thought the bathroom was small before, but I’d also never been inside it with a man the size of Gilly.
“Then what are you going to do with me?” I finally pull it together long enough to get the words out. That’s only because those cool blue eyes of his left mine for a moment. When they lock back on me, I freeze again. How does he do this to me?
Love. The one word flits through my mind. As much as I want to deny it, that's the truth. I’m in love with him, and it’s why I’m so pissed and wanting to push past what will never be.
He steps into me, backing me up until my ass hits the edge of the sink. Then he lifts me without saying a word and yanks my dress up until my silky black panties come into view. His grip on my throat tightens. I should be telling him to stop, but that’s the last thing I find myself wanting him to do.
“What are you wearing?” he grits out.
“Called a thong. It was that or no panties at all. I can’t have panty lines.” I smirk. Finally I give a push back. It might only be a verbal one, but it’s something. “What? You’ve never seen a thong? You should see the back side.” He drops his hand from my throat and takes a step away. Disappointment fills me at the loss of his touch.
“No. Turn around and show me.”
I’m not sure if this is an order or a challenge. Either way, if he wants to play this game, then we’ll play. I slip back down off the counter, my heels clicking on the marble floor. I keep my dress hiked with one hand as I slowly turn around and pull it up to show him my back side. I make a point of leaning forward so that he can get a real good view. Did he say he’s never seen a thong before? I want to ask, but I don’t. That truth could hurt in ways I don’t care to think about right now or ever.