Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 44666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
And it never will be.
He doesn’t voice it, but I hear his unspoken truth. His heart bears a permanent hole, like mine. The realization presses against my ribs, haunting the hollow spaces of my own loss. I should say something, offer a feeble platitude, but nothing feels adequate. Grief isn’t so easily erased.
“It’s been a long day.” I pull my hands back from the table. “May I be excused?”
“I haven’t presented my gift yet.” His tone prickles the back of my neck.
Because a gift from the Brotherhood is never just a gift.
I glance at the massive ring on my left hand and think back to that first dinner, that first offering, when Liam staked his claim. In this tower, gifts always come with strings.
Oliver’s easy confidence tells me this one is no different.
“You seem suspicious,” he says. “Don’t you enjoy gifts?”
“I don’t trust them, coming from the Brotherhood.”
“There’s no need to be wary.” He drags a fingertip along the rim of his glass. “This isn’t something you can unwrap.”
“Okay,” I concede begrudgingly. “I’m intrigued.”
“When you’re ready to know what’s behind the locked door,” he murmurs, savoring the slow tease of my curiosity, “just say the word.”
I know exactly which door he’s talking about, which word he wants me to say.
Sir.
“You’re assuming I want to know what’s inside.”
“Trust me. You will.”
“And how can you be so sure?”
The candlelight flickers, glinting in his eyes. “It’s a talent of mine.”
His words hang between us, with no elaboration offered.
Not that I want one.
I push back from the table, limbs sluggish with exhaustion, and try to ignore the certainty in his smirk. He already knows I won’t be able to stop thinking about what’s behind that door.
Why is it that once an unwanted thought is planted, it spreads like a weed, wild and uncontrollable?
By the time I retreat to my suite, sleep is the furthest thing from my mind. I toss and turn in bed as Oliver’s cryptic talents take center stage. Astrid’s breathing evened out an hour ago, but my thoughts spin through the day, trapped in the Brotherhood’s collective hamster wheel.
Oliver and his mysterious door.
Dr. Sullivan Price and his method.
Liam and the aftermath of last night, when he made me come…twice.
The shrink is right about one thing—it all comes down to control. I lost it with Ford, and then on that cliff, and afterward…
In Liam’s bed.
I gave him something I’ve only ever given one man. Regret floods my veins, but a small part of me wouldn’t take it back, even if I could. That act of intimacy sparked life into me again.
He purged the denial from my bones and dragged me into acceptance. It was cathartic to the core, but it was still the essence of losing control.
Dr. Price’s mandate lurks in the quiet shadows of my suite, and I press my thighs together, an unconscious reaction, as a thread of need tugs at me.
An itch I don’t know how to scratch. Not on my own.
The men in this tower have always had a hand in my orgasm, whether by permission, participation, or design.
But the doctor’s challenge won’t leave me alone. Tentatively, I reach underneath my nightgown and slide a hand into my panties. Closing my eyes, I test the waters with slow, featherlight strokes over my clit. Sensation whispers through me before vanishing like smoke. Frustration leaves me restless and squirming.
This is ridiculous.
Last night, Liam had no trouble lighting me up.
Unbidden, the memory unfurls. His breath, hot and damp against my inner thighs. His tongue, lazy and thorough as he licked me to madness. The way he groaned, like he was the one unraveling.
I ease a finger into my pussy, and a sharp inhale shudders through my chest. My exploration is nothing compared to the way he filled me, his expert digits plunging deep, but it’s enough to tantalize. Liam’s words slip through the haze, coaxing me further.
Give it to me.
I arch into the pleasure, hips rolling, pressure building…
Suddenly, Oliver intrudes into my headspace, his commanding presence drifting through my mind. I’m so startled by the direction of my thoughts that a soft gasp escapes before I can swallow it down. My eyes snap wide, air tangling in my throat.
My bedroom door gapes open, framing a silhouette on the threshold. Broad shoulders, straight spine, hands tucked into his pockets.
Oliver.
Wordless.
Motionless.
Haunting the edge of my desire.
I hold his stare for a beat too long, and my heart hammers in the hush of the room. Then, with a slow exhale, I roll over and give him my back, squeezing my eyes shut as heat pulsates at my core.
Minutes pass.
Astrid’s rhythmic snores continue.
The stillness hums in my ears.
But when I dare another glance, the doorway is empty.
11
Silverware scrapes plates. Fabric shifts against rustic chairs. Glances meet, then break, too many times to count. It’s another day, another meal, and I’m caught in a maddening loop that never ends.