Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Her eyes widen, her chest rising and falling with quick, labored breaths. “You what?”
I lean in, skimming my lips over hers as I take her chin, making sure she hears every goddamn word. “You heard me, doll. I fucking love you.”
Tears well in her eyes, but she doesn’t dare blink them away as she shakes her head, staring at me as though she can’t comprehend the words that just came flying out of my mouth. “How could you possibly love someone like me? I’m broken. I need meds just to keep me from going insane. How could you want somebody like me?”
“You’re not understanding, doll,” I tell her, letting her see right through to my soul as I bare it all for her. “You are my divinity. You are my God-given eternal peace. I’m not giving you up for anything.”
I can almost sense the way her heart races in tandem with mine, and as she takes a breath, she lifts her hand to my chest. Her watery eyes remain locked on mine, searching them as if trying to catch me in an elaborate scheme. “You really mean that?”
I nod as a small smirk kicks up the corner of my lips. “This is the part where you finally admit that you’re desperately in love with me too and send your bullshit exclusivity terms to the deepest pits of Hell.”
Her jaw drops, and she has the audacity to get sheepish, though I suppose now isn’t the time to remind her that she doesn’t need to be shy with me, especially after all the things I’ve done to her body. “I . . . uhhhh . . . might have some certain feelings for . . . perhaps you, my forbidden step-uncle, that may or may not be something a little more than like.”
“Something a little more than like?”
“Mm-hmm,” she says, holding up her fingers to show just how little.
I lean in even closer, her gaze captivated by mine, and as my lips hover just an inch from hers, she sucks in a breath. She’s just as affected by my proximity as I am hers. “Tell me what I want to hear, Morticia. Say the words that you and I both know are tormenting that pretty little brain of yours.”
She lets out a sigh, her hand snaking up around the back of my neck, and I can’t help but reach down and scoop her off the couch, her legs locking around my waist. Her arms loop over my shoulders as her bright green gaze rests on mine. Those eyes are like a perfect window right through to her soul. “I don’t know how you’ve done it, Knight Slater, but I am shamelessly and irrevocably in love with you.”
“There,” I say, as a goofy-as-fuck smile pulls across my lips. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Harper rolls her eyes and closes the gap, pressing her lips to mine. “Shut up,” she says, her words muffled against my lips as she kisses me. “But that doesn’t mean I’m about to move in with you.”
“Yeah, Morticia. You are.”
She pulls back, her gaze hardening. “The fuck I am.”
“I told you, this isn’t a negotiation. I’m packing your ass up and bringing you home where you belong,” I tell her. “Fight me on it all you want, but at the end of the day, it’s my bed you’ll be sleeping in whether you like it or not.”
“Or what?” she grunts, shoving out of my arms and forcing me to put her back on her feet. “You’ll kidnap me?”
The smirk that pulls across my face answers her question before I even have the chance to open my mouth. “If you really need clarification on that, then you don’t know me well enough.”
She scoffs. “That’s part of the problem. I barely know you at all.”
I’m not often caught off guard, but at that, I pull back and stare at her. Sure, she might not know what high school I went to or who I lost my virginity to, but I’ve never let anybody in the way I have with her. “What the fuck are you talking about? You know me.”
Harper shakes her head. “I know that you would never hurt me or try to push for something I wasn’t ready for. I know you make my body come alive in a way that nobody ever has before. I know that you have a good heart, despite being a bossy asshole. But I don’t truly know you. I don’t know the little things. I don’t even know the names of those two guys who dropped my keys off in the hospital when you were too pussy to show your face. I don’t know your favorite color. Your favorite meal. Or how the hell you managed to get shot three times.”
“You’re talking about superficial things,” I say, feeling as though that shit doesn’t matter, but the way she’s looking at me makes me wonder if perhaps it means something more to her.