Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“Well, this is a nice office perk.” I sound like I’m drunk.
That earns me another grumble.
The door to the room is open, but I hardly notice. My senses are on overload, and every damn detail is filled with him. The masculine scent of him, raw and primal. The broad stretch of his muscled shoulders exposed because he’s wearing a tank, his stubble thicker now that it’s so late in the day. The heavy sound of his breathing.
Can he hear how fast my heart beats? Can he feel the way my skin heats?
Can he see the flush that creeps over my body because we’re touching?
I’m intoxicated from lack of sleep and adrenaline from all the events of the day.
I try to keep my body erect so my head doesn’t snuggle up in that hollow of his neck like I want it to. “You’re crossing a line here, you know.”
“Doing what?”
Thump goes my heart. “Touching me.”
A beat passes before he responds. “I know.” It’s dark in here save for the yellowed pool of a nightlight beside the bed, but even with the shades drawn and lights dimmed, I can tell this room’s outfitted in luxury. I don’t care.
He could have had one of his men show me the way. He could have pointed or gestured or even just walked beside me.
I need him. I need what his team can do for me. I have to make sure I don’t say or do anything that jeopardizes what I need.
He’s still holding me. I’m barely breathing, afraid if I move too quickly, I’ll wake and find I was only dreaming.
Men don’t touch women like me, and those that even think about it face the consequences.
I want him to know it’s okay, or maybe I just want to assure myself.
So I reach my hand to his jaw and do what I wanted to from the first time I saw him. I lay my hand on his stubbled jaw, thrilled at the prickly feel.
“I’ll help you find your sister,” I whisper.
Heat flares in his eyes. “You will. And we’ll find your parents’ killers.”
I swallow, not sure what else to say.
I have to get ahold of myself.
“You could put me down, now.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, all breathy and whispery yet somehow husky. I feel… sexy.
How does he make me feel sexy?
“I could.”
Still, he doesn’t.
I want him to kiss me, but there’s no telling what will happen if he does.
Just a kiss, I taunt myself. What harm could come from a kiss?
His eyes spark at me, like he’s reading my mind. Maybe he can, I think in my sleepy state. He’s already larger than life and fearless. It only makes sense that he has superhuman abilities too.
I feel as if I’m standing on the edge of a precipice. One gust of wind, and I’ll plummet to my death.
But I’ve always been more afraid of complacency than taking chances.
Slowly, so slowly at first I think it’s my woozy, exhausted imagination, he bends his head a bit closer to me. I stare at his full, gorgeous lips, and imagine what it would be like to lick and bite them. I wonder what he tastes like.
Fire licks through me.
My eyes rove over his stubble, then down to his neck. I watch him swallow. The cuts he sustained are no longer bleeding, but the skin’s an angry red between his collarbone and neck.
“You’re hurt,” I say in a hushed tone. And before I know what I’m doing, my hands are at his neck to anchor myself and I’m pulling myself closer to him. My lips meet his skin, kissing it better. I feel like I could cry.
The energy between the two of us crackles and sizzles. I tremble at his nearness, at his scent. I want to taste him.
I close my eyes and go for broke. I lick where I just kissed.
The groan he utters lashes through me as his grip tightens. I suckle his skin. I want more. I need more. I swear I feel the snap as his resolve breaks.
His mouth is so close I can feel his breath. I’m on the bed. I don’t even know how I got here. He kneels beside me, the bed sagging under his weight.
Strong fingers grasping my chin, he lifts my mouth from his neck, and for one heart-stopping moment, I don’t know what terrifies me more—the thought of him kissing me or the thought of him turning away.
His fingers tangle in my hair as if to prove to himself that I’m real, that I can’t get away from him. I watch his lips part. My heart slams against my rib cage… then his mouth meets mine and my thoughts come to a stuttering, screeching halt as my brain short-circuits and I fall fully into my body.
Like everything about Cain Master, his kiss is too much.