Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
My fingertips buzzed with the thought.
“I’m here ’cause I wanted to look you in the eye when I tell you I’m taking everything you had. Everything you threw away ’cause you’re rotten… to your fuckin’ core.”
I stood, staring down at him. I spat in his face.
“I’ll do that on your grave one day too,” I promised, then I turned on my heel and walked out.
That was the first of two very fucking difficult things I had to do that day, and the sun was only just coming up.
Chapter Twenty
Kate
It was the smell of coffee that woke me. And the distinct scent that could only come from Swiss. Leathery. Musky. A hint of vanilla.
I smiled before my eyes even opened, the sheets like butter around my body. The warmth of the sun streamed through the windows, illuminating my eyelids.
My body hurt a little less every day. But my mind was the biggest difference. I felt… changed. Lighter. Not only was I waking up in a place that was mine, I was waking up with Swiss, with all of my secrets laid out, nothing rotting inside me anymore. Sure, there was still a long road to go, but I felt equipped for the journey now.
“Mornin’, Countess,” Swiss’s gruff voice greeted.
My smile widened, and my eyes opened to Swiss, sitting on the side of the bed, staring at me.
He was fully dressed, which made sense since two coffee cups from Oliver’s were sitting on the nightstand.
“How long was I out?” I asked, my voice a scratchy wisp. My throat was much better but was worse in the mornings and nights, like when trying to shake the last of a nasty cold.
Swiss leaned forward to brush the hair from my face. “A little over thirteen hours.”
I leaned into his touch “That long?”
“You needed every minute of it.”
I thought on that. On everything that had happened the past few weeks, the conversations had.
Yeah, I really did need it.
And I was waking up a new woman. Sure, I had a lot of the same bruises, but they would fade.
I was lighter, infinitely so. My slate felt clean.
I was in my house. My house. A place where I could hang that painting from the antique store. Swiss was right here, there was coffee.
All was right in the world.
My body melted as I took him in, the light shining, illuminating the rough stubble on his square jaw, those eyes, the cords of his neck.
Desire grew in my body as I lifted my hands to his cut, grasping it so I could pull him down to me.
“Speaking of things I need…” I murmured suggestively.
Swiss’s eyes did not melt into the familiar look of hunger I’d expected. No. They darkened, his jaw going tight, his face closing off into something cold, distant.
He leaned back, and I immediately wanted to crawl into myself, to hide under the sting of the rejection. My neck turned hot, and I wanted to sink into the floor. I didn’t do that, though.
Swiss stepped back from the bed and walked toward the window. “That’s not a good idea, Kate,” he said tightly.
I climbed out of bed quickly, all of the melty feelings I’d been having nowhere to be seen. I was far too vulnerable lying in bed.
Though standing wasn’t much better since I was wearing a tank and panties, no bra. I itched to find something to wear, but the small walk-in closet was all the way across the room, and I didn’t trust myself to make that journey.
So instead, I lingered by the nightstand, taking a big sip of coffee before placing it down, watching Swiss pace by the window.
My hand crept self-consciously up my neck. I was much better than I had been before. Doing things like smiling, speaking and eating didn’t cause excruciating pain. Breathing wasn’t like inhaling broken glass. I was walking around almost without limping. All in all, I was doing well. Hence my need for a little distraction, for Swiss’s hands on my body. For the blissful nirvana of our bodies joining, the disconnection from reality that I knew that always brought.
It might not have been entirely sane or healthy that I was eager—or more accurately, desperate—to have him inside me, to have him hurt me, but I didn’t much care at that moment.
I just wanted him.
It did not occur to me that he might not want me. I looked far from my best. The bruises covering my face weren’t black and blue anymore, they were shades of green and purple. The rings around my neck were still angry. Yeah, I wasn’t exactly desirable.
“I know this look isn’t exactly… sexy,” I waved at my face, my voice smaller than I liked.
Swiss’s gaze ignited, and he stopped pacing, crossing the distance between us in two long strides before he lifted his hand up to caress my cheek gently. Much too gently.