Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“I don’t want your dumb jacket.” She tries to shrug it off, but I snag the plackets and hold it closed around her.
“Ask me if I give a fuck about what you want right now?” I snarl in her face. “I can’t believe you thought I was going to leave you in that bar, vulnerable to all those men.”
Yeah, I’m a monster, but I’m her monster.
She barks out a laugh, and I can smell the whiskey on her breath. “Don’t pretend to be a gentleman when we both know you ‘rescuing’ me has nothing to do with you ‘caring’ about me, and everything to do with you not wanting anyone else to touch or look at what you think is yours.” I clench my jaw hard enough to cause an ache. This fucking temptress. She makes my head and my cock throb, sometimes at the same time. “That little act in there was nothing but a dog marking his territory.”
Anger and lust swirl in my veins and seep into all the holes of the wall I’ve been trying to keep up to protect myself from her. So what if she’s right and sees right through every word I say? Does it matter? I can’t change it. I can’t make myself not give a fuck about her, no matter how hard I try.
“Excuse me for giving a fuck. God knows someone needs to, since clearly you don’t, with all your slurring and stumbling around.”
“That’s rich, coming from you. Weren’t you in the drunk tank like a week ago?” She tries to shove me away but barely moves me. “Tell me, Kade. Is what I said the truth? Is it about possession? Is it because, even if you shouldn’t, even if it’s wrong, you still want me?”
She blinks hard at me. I can’t tell if she’s trying to focus on me or glare at me.
Do I tell her the truth? Will she even remember this conversation tomorrow?
I lean in, bracing my forearm against the wall above her head. She shrinks back as far as she can, trying to put distance between us, but there’s nowhere for her to go.
“What would it say about me if I were to say yes?”
“That you’re fucked up and should get some mental help.”
“Then I guess I need fucking therapy because seeing you like that, with those assholes trying to offer you money to take your clothes off, made me feral. It wouldn’t have taken much for me to kill one of them for putting their hands on you. And Allie, it would’ve been worth it.” I grip her chin and force her unfocused gaze to meet mine. “In case you haven’t noticed, when it comes to you, there is no law, boundary, or rule that I won’t break.”
“What is wrong with you? Why can’t you get it through your head that I don’t belong to you?” She presses her left hand to my chest like she wants to push me away—as if she could. I glance down at her hand against my chest. Suddenly, I wish I could take back the words I just spoke. Subconsciously, I know confessing my feelings to her is pointless. She’s engaged to another man. She’s marrying another man. Or maybe she’s not? And that’s why her ring is missing. Stupid hope blooms in my chest.
I drag my attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “No ring tonight? Is that why you’re out drinking yourself into oblivion? Did your fiancé find out his bride isn’t as pure as he thought?”
Her mouth falls open, and her already flushed cheeks flash even pinker. “No. The wedding is still on.”
Of course it is. I lean closer and drag the scent of her hair into my lungs. I need this. I need her. The smell of beer and sweat clings to her skin, but beneath that is her unique scent. It’s unfair that she smells so good, like flowers and vanilla. Like candy. I close my eyes, and this time, I take a deep breath through my nose, soaking her in.
After a moment, I say, “You know it doesn’t matter to me, right? If you’re married to another man.” It’s pathetic how weak I am for this woman. “I don’t give a fuck if another man’s ring is on your finger, if you have another man’s last name, or if you have another man’s children. It doesn’t mean shit. It doesn’t change that you’re mine, Allie. All. Fucking. Mine.”
“Don’t talk like that,” she whispers, turning her face away. “Stop.”
“Make me,” I whisper, and my lips graze her ear.
Her mouth says one thing, but her body means another. She’s trembling, and a shiver ripples through her at the slightest touch. Now would be the perfect time to tell her we’re not really related. End the manipulation. But dammit, a part of me still wants to keep her dangling. To make her suffer like I’m suffering. And it’s clear she is suffering. Melting against me because she can’t fight the way her body reaches for mine when I thrust my hips to press my hardening cock against her.