Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
More. I beg for it, and I know he can hear me. I need more. I need him to wash away everything and make all of what happened to be worth something, so I grip the ridge of his dick again, rubbing it. I drop my other hand, working to unbutton and unzip his pants, but it’s when I’m about to push them down his waist and free him, that he grunts and tears his mouth away.
The weight of him is gone, as well as the heat of his body. When I look up, he’s standing, and he takes a few steps back, breathing raggedly. Using the back of his hand, he wipes the corner of his mouth and stands tall, clearing his throat.
Once he’s gained his composure and has fixed his pants, he asks, “Did that feel like hate to you?”
I don’t answer. I’m trying to catch my breath and digest what’s happened. I’ve kissed men before, but none of them have felt like that. None have made me want to be swallowed whole by a kiss, to be buried with it. No man has ever made me ache the way he has right now.
He clears his throat again, swiping his palms down the length of his shirt. “Regardless, we’ve found Beatrix,” he says, and I try focusing on his words, but my eyes drop to the erection in his pants. He’s still hard. Why doesn’t he just take me? I’m right here. Just take me. “She gave me the chant,” he continues. “Della will bring some clothes for you, and then you can go home, back to your world, like you want.” He says the final statement with a whisper of disappointment. After he does, I feel a sharp pain in my chest, tight and constricting. I lift a hand, rubbing my chest. He doesn’t react, but I’m sure he feels it too, and it bugs me that I can’t hear him. His wall is high and thick, not a single thought escaping.
Caz looks me over, eyes glossy, then makes his way toward the door, leaving the room and shutting it behind him.
I run a finger over my lips, staring at the door, wishing he’d come back to do that all over again, but he won’t. He’s proved his point. He doesn’t hate me, but he also doesn’t want me staying, and I need to get back home, so I’ll go because this world is nothing but a vicious fantasy, and my real life is much safer.
Regardless, knowing he’s walking away physically hurts, and the wider the space grows between us, the more I feel the pain inside cutting deeper, like a sharp knife through the heart.
Fifty
CAZ
I sit in my office chair, clutching my chest with one hand and stroking the top of Cerberus’ furry head with the other.
It’s been an hour since that bloody kiss—well, it was more than a kiss, and I can’t stop thinking about it. In fact, the more I think about it, the more pain it causes me. I want to be back in that room. I want to kiss her again. I want to bury myself so deep inside her that it eases the pain, but I can’t do that.
She doesn’t belong here, and she doesn’t belong to me. She almost died because of me, so she can’t stay. If she leaves, then maybe the urges won’t be so intense. Manx said the Tether is getting stronger the more we’re around one another, and I realize whatever he gave me is wearing off because more black veins have appeared across my ribcage and are running farther up my neck.
My eyes move to the gun on the desk. The silver glimmers from the light pouring through the window, despite it being a cloudy day. I release my chest to pick up the gun and weigh it in my hand.
The reminder of being around that fighting ring eats at me. The metal cage. The whistles. The people shouting. The sweat and blood and anger. I sit back with the gun, close my eyes, and bring it to my temple.
Not my enemy, my friend.
“What are you doing?” The voice fills the room, and I open my eyes to find Willow standing on the other side of the office. She’s dressed casually, black jeans and an oversized T-shirt. Her hair has been pulled up into a ponytail, the ends sprouting out like individual flower stems. Her brown eyes swim with concern, and she looks from me to the gun. I lower it, placing it back on the desk. Cerberus stands and walks to Willow to sniff her, before turning away and leaving the room.
“Nothing.”
“Why were you pointing that at your head?”
“Are you ready to go home?” I counter.
She shifts on her feet. “I’m hungry.”
“Della is in the kitchen.”