Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Oh, really?” he asked, a sly smile tipping his lips. He scooted closer until our shoulders almost touched and leaned in so close his breath stroked my cheek. Goosebumps spread down my arm when he gently brushed my hair behind my ear and whispered, “There’s a difference between not liking to share your toys and continuously glaring with jealousy because someone is touching what is theirs. And not just a toy, but something—someone they need—someone that is crucial to him. I bet he’s fighting the urge to come up here and claim you like some kind of caveman. And I’m not even doing anything except standing close while we talk.”
I glanced back at Lucian, finding the darkness from earlier building around him again. Not actual shadows, but an aura formed from the energy he cumulated with his dark glare and cruel curl of his lips.
“That man down there is watching you like he craves you and is fighting to hold back the need to come up here and ensure no one else comes close enough to take away something he wants as much as you.”
I studied Lucian, trying to see what Ash did—wanting to.
Maybe it was his explanation that coerced me to see more than I had before, but I started noticing little things. The tick of his jaw every time he stole a glance away from his conversation to look up at me. The flex of his hands around his glass, so tight I could see his white fingertips from here. The forced smile he offered in the conversation, vanishing before it formed.
My heart fluttered, stealing my breath, and I didn’t know what to believe. Maybe Ash only saw what he thought was real, unaware of the truth behind Lucian’s and my arrangement.
But did the arrangement dismiss Lucian’s body language? Or was body language more honest than words—revealing truths neither of us was brave enough to say out loud?
Before I could dive too deep into the thought, Lucian stepped from the group and gave me one last heated stare as he made his way across the room. To the steps? To me? To claim me?
My breath stalled in my chest. I tried to tell myself it was irritation—that I wasn’t something to be claimed. But the heat blooming through my veins betrayed me, sparking an undeniable thrill I couldn’t ignore.
Ash bumped his shoulder against mine, pulling my attention to his smirking face. “That’s my cue to leave. Good luck.”
I watched him go in the opposite direction, my mouth agape. He’d instigated this situation, and now he was just going to bolt. Unbelievable.
I pulled myself together and turned to find Lucian cresting the last step; the thundercloud darkening his aristocratic features making me understand why Ash hadn’t stuck around.
Adrenaline surged through me, making my hands tremble. Attempting to hide my nerves, I straightened my shoulders and turned away, bracing my palms on the banister.
He stepped close, swallowing me in his shadow. “Have a good conversation with your fuck boy?”
The question washed over me like cold water, chilling me only on the surface while the heat beneath continued to simmer and thicken. I clenched my jaw and faced him. “He’s not my fuck boy.”
His gaze reignited my flesh. The jealousy I’d suspected from a distance was nothing compared to the heat that rolled over me now, intimate and unmistakable. “So, you’re telling me you’ve never slept with him?”
“I don’t see how any of that is your business. You don’t see me asking if there are any women here that you’ve slept with.” I doubted he’d slept with anyone here—except Emily, whom I’d seen walking around, pointedly avoiding anywhere I was.
He drew in a sharp breath through flared nostrils and cocked an arrogant brow. “I have no problem pointing out who I’ve slept with. There are no more than ten attending tonight.”
Surprise knocked me back from the banister, my eyes wide. I resisted the urge to demand he point them out one by one, but still stumbled another step away. “Ten women?” I asked, keeping my voice as even as I could. “You’ve slept with ten women at this gala?”
The swirl of emotions threatened to spill over—anger, disbelief, something far more treacherous. The last thing I needed was for him to think I cared. Even if, begrudgingly, I did.
He moved away from the railing and smirked, clearly seeing straight through my composure—and enjoying every second of it. “Don’t sound so shocked. I’ve had more years than you to gain experience with many partners.”
“It’s still an awfully high ratio of people to have slept with at a single event, no matter how old you are,” I grumbled, then stopped short, struck by the realization that I didn’t even know his age. The absurdity of it nearly made me laugh—how little I truly knew about him. “How old are you, anyway?”