Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I want to say I’m not interested, but I’m curious. I might not be able to kill him right now, but if I can strangle him through other means, I’d be crazy not to take that opportunity.
I’m conflicted. I can’t stand this man, but my body is very interested in having another night with him.
“You hate me, so why would you want to have sex with me?” I ask. I don’t understand why he started playing with me in the first place. It’s most likely to get dirt on my family. But surely, he knows I’m not stupid enough to share information like that with him.
“No, I despise who you are. But hate? That’s a strong word.”
“Should you even be associating with me, knowing who my family is? You’re lucky Hawke didn’t break your legs last time,” I say, keeping my gaze on my pancakes. And it goes without saying that if my father or aunt found out, he’d no longer be breathing.
“Eat. You’ll need the carbs,” he tells me.
I automatically get his reference—he plans to fuck me all night. And the thought of it doesn’t disgust me. It excites me. That is so wrong on so many levels. I’m so conflicted, on the edge of wanting it so badly, but knowing better than to reach for it. I’m already lying to my family about him and our association, but this? This would be damning myself. Wouldn’t it? Or can I gain my own fun from it?
I stab my fork into my pancakes and start to eat. Not because he told me to, but because I haven’t eaten anything for at least six hours. I was too nervous to eat at the beginning of the event, and I chose not to eat during it.
I contemplate the high it’ll give me to fuck him before I kill him. Won’t that be a beautiful, poetic betrayal? The idea is so delicious it makes my pussy begin to pulse.
It’s fucked up and twisted, but isn’t that why he’s here too? No matter our motives, aren’t we both curious?
“Why do you pretend to be so shy?” he purrs.
I look up at him, pushing my glasses up my nose. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t think I stuttered.”
“I’m not pretending anything. I’m simply selective about who I give my time to. Don’t be offended because it’s not you,” I say with fake calm because I’m anything but right now. Fucking him is one thing, but his judgment really pisses me off. Every time we meet, it’s like he’s studying me, purposely looking for… What? What does he expect to find? Am I scared of what he might find?
“Interesting.” He finishes his pancakes and then sits back to watch me slowly eat my own. We couldn’t be more different. He demolishes his food like an animal, while I manage to only eat half before placing my fork down and folding my hands on the table.
“Are you done?” He glances down at my plate.
I’m not surprised by his appetite. After all, I grew up around the twins in their teens and watching teenage boys eat is like watching a documentary about hyenas on the Discovery Channel. Turns out, their appetites don’t change much when they grow up.
When I nod, he pulls my plate over and starts eating the rest of my pancakes. What’s peculiar is how much he doesn’t care about eating from my plate. We don’t really know one another. We’re not friends. Yet he lacks so much in etiquette that it disgusts me as much as it fascinates me. He really doesn’t give a shit who I am or who my family is.
It’s unsettling.
The moment he’s done, he stands and offers me his hand. I ignore it, getting up on my own. He throws a fifty-dollar bill down on the table and then leads me to the door.
My heart is racing. I know it’s not just the fucking he’s here for. He wants to uncover my weaknesses. But aren’t I curious about his weaknesses as well?
“Are you really planning on taking me to your place?” I ask as we step out into the frigid cold of the night.
“Do you prefer we go back to yours? I’m sure your father would love waking up to his daughter screaming in pleasure,” he says, opening the passenger door.
“You sound awfully cocky as if you know you can make me scream.” I raise a brow at him.
“Oh, I do, Shortcake.” He nods to the car. “Now, get in.”
I want to stay exactly where I am, but I also want to get in that car because it’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man. I’ve been so focused on my career. But I made a step this week to free myself ever so slightly. Perhaps this isn’t what my parents would encourage, and my family might shame me for it, but it’s thrilling. His blue eyes anchor me to him as if coaxing me to trust him. I don’t.