Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I hear him hiss, and when I crack my eyes open just the tiniest bit, I see him drag his hands through his hair, then down his face.
Next thing I know, he’s climbing out of bed and tossing down the sheet behind him. The shadow of his big body lumbers toward the bathroom, but he’s quiet about closing the door. Then I hear the shower. Only then do I turn over to see what time it is.
Three-thirty in the morning.
Does this happen a lot? It’s almost like he has a routine for when it does. I don’t know many people who take middle-of-the-night showers. Or does he just know he won’t be able to get back to sleep?
I flop back in bed, arm thrown over my face. I don’t know if I’ll be getting back to sleep, either.
It’s been three days with my new bodyguard, and I’d love to say we’ve gotten into a routine, but that’d be a lie. The guy Carol hired might’ve been a narc and a bore, but I’ll give him this: I could generally forget he was there.
It’s impossible to ignore Isaak, though. Whether he’s trying to pry information out of me to see if he can guess who the stalker is, chewing loudly during one of his many requested “chow breaks,” or interfering when I’m trying to conduct research at Carnal.
I still can’t decide if I regret turning down the nice, tall, incredibly intimidating dom with the dark, liquid voice tonight who offered to spank me.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him and Moira the entire night. They certainly did a lot more than just spanking.
I feel breathless just remembering it all. In the end, I was just happy that Moira seemed to find someone to finally satisfy her. By the time the mysterious dom was making her recite bible verses and spanking her with a bible if she didn’t get them right, she was screaming and coming harder than I’ve ever seen her. Because of my research at the club, I’ve seen my friend have a lot of sex.
Then I had to climb back in Isaak’s rumbling truck while still being all turned on from everything at the club. My super helpful brain was happy to transpose the big, good-looking man beside me onto the scenes I’d just seen. And myself for Moira.
Especially when we climbed into bed together.
Bend over for him. Beg him to spank you. Beg him to fuck you and make you scream like Moira screamed for her dom.
I cover my eyes with my hands even though the room is dark. Thank god this is the last night before we can get separate rooms. Good lord! How much can one little OCD-tortured brain take?
He simply takes up too much space, literally and figuratively. There’s no possible way to ignore Isaak Luther. After the game tomorrow, at least we’ll be able to get separate beds. This is too much to ask of two strangers.
I mean, does the man have to sleep in only his boxers? When I woke just a few minutes ago, my face was smashed against his broad, warm, bare chest. His chest hair was softer than I expected, and my fingers were all tangled up in it. Good god, at least I woke up first!
I couldn’t imagine my mortification if I hadn’t.
What if you’d been curled over, and you’d woken with your head on his lower stomach, mouth right by his pelvis… And instead of waking from a nightmare, he’d woken, still breathing hard, and—
Intrusive thought. It’s just an intrusive thought. I can cut it off at the root and forget it ever existed. It never has to happen again because it wasn’t real.
But I can think of all the things that are real to drown it out.
Like my engagement party tomorrow with Drew. Shit, I guess it’s tonight since the clock says it’s three-thirty in the morning already. It’s been too long since I saw him. We usually try to catch up at least once a week. He’s always been one of my best friends.
We used to talk every day. I twist in bed and reach for my phone on the nightstand.
It’s all but automatic at this point to ignore the fifteen abusive text messages that have popped up while I slept. Instead of giving them any airtime in my head, I pull up my photo albums and click on the one labeled Drera, the silly name Drew and I made up for ourselves in high school.
I smile even though I feel my forehead tighten and furrow as I look through the pictures of us. We went to the same expensive prep school and were both under a lot of pressure in high school. His dad is trying to build some sort of political dynasty, and since Drew’s an only child, all the weight falls on his shoulders. I know he hates it and his father.