Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 32532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
“Then let’s talk after I answer—”
“No.”
“But—”
“Do you like him?”
The question hits me like a splash of cold water.
“E-Excuse me??”
“Dane.” His jaw tightens again, that muscle jumping. “He picked you up at the wake. Do you like him?”
I’m almost tempted to think he’s jealous.
Almost.
But since I remember just in time that this is also the same man who thinks I’m ugly—
I let out a nervous laugh even as I wonder why the buzzing panic inside of me always goes quiet like...like this man is my refuge.
Stop it, Mira.
Like seriously.
STOP.
I refocus on his question and decide to take it at face value. “Of course I like—”
His mouth covers mine before I can finish the sentence, and my brain just...stops.
My rescuer...
He’s...kissing me.
Kissing!
Me!
And his lips are so firm and demanding, and is it just me or does his kiss also taste of—wait, wait, wait!
This can’t be happening.
He thinks I’m ugly, and now he’s kissing me?
He wants to marry me off, but now he’s kissing me?
There’s just so, so many questions, all of them impossible to answer, and that’s what gives me just enough strength to push against his chest.
“S-Stop!”
He pulls back immediately, but he doesn’t let me go. His hands are still bracketing me against the wall, and his breathing is uneven, and when he finally speaks—
“Why?”
The tautness of his tone makes my heart for some reason, and instead of telling him that I’ve asked him to stop because I don’t care for his kisses—
“B-Because you think I’m ugly!”
I find myself blurting out the truth—
“I never said that.”
And now I’m the one he’s making out to be the liar between us?
“Yes, you did!”
“When then?”
“You...you might not have said it exactly like that, but when you said I wasn’t the type to seduce—”
“And I still think that. You’re too innocent to be capable of seducing anyone.”
Innocent?
That’s what he meant by saying I’m not the type to seduce?
Not ugly but innocent?
And if that’s the case, then is it safe for me to assume he thinks the opposite, and that I’m actually pret—
Focus, Mira!
Whether he thinks I’m ugly or innocent isn’t the point. Because he did say something else—
“What about wanting to marry me off?”
And that part I definitely didn’t misunderstand.
“So you do speak French,” he murmurs.
“Don’t change the sub—”
“Why did you never tell me you speak French?”
“You never asked.”
“I’m asking now.”
“I—” This isn’t how this conversation is supposed to go. I’m supposed to be the one asking questions. “Stop changing the subject—”
“Then stop giving meaning to words you were never meant to hear.”
“Are you saying you lied?”
“And stop accusing me of something I never will be.”
“So you’re not a liar, but you deny—”
“I’m not denying saying what you heard.”
“So you really wanted to marry me off.”
“I did.”
Two words.
Just two words, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest.
“At that time.”
Three words now.
Just three words, and the sun inside my heart starts shining again.
His hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone so gently it makes my throat tight. I should push him away. I should demand more answers. I should do something other than stand here melting into his touch like I have no self-respect whatsoever.
But my body has apparently staged a mutiny against my brain, and all I can do is stare up at him and wait.
“I wanted to marry you off because that’s how my people used to solve things.” His thumb traces my jaw, featherlight. “I thought I’d find you someone safe. Someone capable of protecting you. Someone who deserved you in ways I never could.”
My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear myself think.
“But now?” I whisper.
“You make me feel things—” His voice is low, almost pained. “—when I never used to feel. You make me think of things a man like me has no business thinking. And you—” He exhales, sharp and frustrated. “You disturb me.”
That should sound like an insult.
But the way he says it—like it’s been torn out of him, like he’s confessing a sin—makes warmth bloom in my chest instead.
Mira the Disturber.
I kind of love it.
“I overheard you talking about Luc.” His jaw tightens on the name, and I hold my breath. “When I didn’t know he was fictional—”
“And it disturbed you?”
“Yes.”
Oh wow.
“And when I saw someone pick you up at your cousin’s wake—”
My eyes widen. “I thought you left!”
“It would have been better if I had.” His voice is rough. “I would have been spared watching you run into another man’s arms. Watching you cry on his chest.”
“And that...also disturbed you?”
“Extremely.”
I should not be this happy about disturbing him.
And yet...
“Dane is just my friend,” I blurt out. “We’ve never—he’s not—I don’t think of him like that at all.”
“It didn’t look that way.”
“He’s Trina’s ex. They dated in high school, but they kept it secret because his parents thought she was bad news.”