Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
What if now, when I reached out to Ash, I couldn’t achieve what I had before? What if I lost the five-minute reprieve I’d clung to?
Then what was I supposed to do?
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
I rubbed my chest, trying to soothe the piercing ache.
What was I supposed to do?
The question played on repeat, spiraling without an end in sight.
“Aspen?”
Faster and faster.
What was I supposed to do? Where would I let go? Would it build and build until it consumed me? What was I supposed to do? WhatwasIsupposedtodo?
Then it stopped—the spinning and the questions and everything around me stopped with one truth standing out.
This was all Lucian’s fault.
Lucian mother-fucking Daire broke me.
He sent me into some sub-space, gave me an orgasm, made me lose complete control, and now I was broken.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.
“Ummm, what?”
I jerked my attention to Ash, finding increasing concern marring his face.
“Sorry, Ash. I just—I...”
My mouth opened and closed, searching for the words while my mind scrambled for a solution. Neither came to me, but one idea solidified. I needed to hold Lucian accountable for breaking me, and I needed him to fix it right now.
Which meant I needed Ash to leave.
“I’m so sorry, but you have to go because I have to go. I know today was weird, but I just had this weird experience with Lucian,” I rambled, words tumbling free without thought as I searched for my phone. “And I needed to prove that it had nothing to do with him, so I called you over but then it got weird and now I feel out of control when usually I feel more in control with you and it’s all a fucking mess and it’s all his fault.”
With wide eyes and a slack-jaw, he let me usher him to the door. His head cocked to the side, and he slowed, turning back to ask, “Are you sure it’s his fau—”
“Yes. Yes, it is,” I pressed, unwilling to be derailed. “Thank you again for coming over. Sorry to kick you out. Talk soon. Bye.”
I turned back to scan my apartment for my phone before remembering I left it on the couch. I found it with the timer still open and ready for five minutes.
What a waste.
I swiped out of the app and pulled up my messages.
Me: Is Mr. Daire at the office today?
Shiloh: I think so. I saw him after lunch. I’m about to head out for the evening, but I can check to make sure he’s still here.
Me: No. That’s okay. Thanks, girl.
No. I didn’t want him to have time to prepare for me. I wanted to find him when he least expected it and make him undo whatever the hell he did.
Doubt whispered in the back of my mind. Are you really going to yell at him for giving you an orgasm?
I stumbled on the way to the door, hesitating for barely a moment before resetting back on my path.
It wasn’t about the orgasm. It was about the way he pushed me past my limits and stole my ability to find release and remain in control.
So, hell yes, I was going to yell at him.
I’d lived my life without orgasms, and I could continue to do so, but there was no way I’d live my life without control.
CHAPTER 11
LUCIAN
I’d pissed off enough women to recognize the difference between casual clicks of heels along a tile floor and the strikes of a stiletto stomping toward a target. I huffed a commiserating laugh for the poor man at the other end of those steps and turned back to my computer.
Only to jerk out of my seat when my door flew open, hit the wall—staying open just enough for Aspen to storm in—and slammed back shut.
She stood there like a bull ready to charge with bright red pumps that looked like they’d been dyed in her previous enemies’ blood. They were sexy as hell and only the beginning of the feast she created for my eyes. My gaze drew up her fitted slacks, over the hourglass curve of her hips and the dip of her waist, lingering between the deep v of her matching red blouse, hinting at her supple breasts, leading up to her clenched jaw, curled lips, and flared nose.
“Aspen,” I greeted, offering a calm to her obvious anger.
“You motherfucker,” she growled, continuing her march across the office to stand toe to toe with me.
“I’m not sure what I’ve done, but maybe next time you could approach it with more professionalism. I could have been in the middle of a meeting.”
“What meeting? You don’t even work here. I think you’re just using this office to drive me insane.”
As if I had a death wish, my lips quirked. “Is that what I’m doing, princess?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing to me,” she accused, jabbing her finger into my chest.