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)
He doesn’t get it. Or maybe he’s not right in the head, either. But for the first time, I don’t deny the statues. If he’s so certain it’s me, doesn’t it mean he accepts at least part of me? Or am I being lulled into a false sense of security?
I lean forward and bite his bottom lip as I lower myself onto his cock pressing between my legs. The moment he’s inside me, I moan as I stretch to take his full size, and he presses my back against the wall as he slams home. The wet slaps echo, mixing with the sound of the water, as I ride the pure bliss. His hand wraps around my throat, and I’m reminded just as I threaten his life, he could take mine as well.
A wave of heat pools at my core, pulsing at the idea. Life and death. Danger. Consumption. It’s all the same. I don’t know why the thought of nearly dying brings me pleasure while having sex, but it does, and he’s the only man not to shun my heated desires.
If anything, he’s the one who birthed them.
He fucks me hard and long, biting my shoulders and neck, claiming me. And I want them all. I want all the marks he’s willing to give. I want him to brand me, to bruise me so irrevocably that I won’t be able to forget about this moment for days, even weeks, after. An ease settles over me as a scream rips from my lips, brought on by his forceful thrusts.
I’m broken for any other man.
I’m choosing to tie myself to him because I never want to forget this feeling.
I never want to forget Braxton Hero. Even when I try, I can’t get him out of my head. And I haven’t been the same since that fateful night four years ago.
CHAPTER 36
Braxton
She turns over in her sleep, and I see my teeth marks imprinted above her breast and on her throat. I trace my finger over them, and she doesn’t even stir. She continues to softly snore next to me.
I wonder if that was her admitting to me in the shower about the statues. Is she just fucking with me to cure my addiction to her? Because that’s what it’s turned into—an addiction. I can’t seem to stay away, even though I know I should.
Her mother came to see me the week after I met her at the art show. Everyone in the police station was happy to see her, flattered by the famous singer making a generous donation to the patrolman’s fund. But she wasn’t there for a social call or a photo op. She warned me that a relationship between myself and her daughter would never work.
That’s when it hit me that the women in these families don’t need to depend on their men. They’re powerful and influential in their own right, as Hope has always been.
I understood her mother’s message well and clear. Her donation was her subtly trying to pay me off to stay away from Hope. Instead of heeding her warning, I kindly showed her the door. That was the day before Kylie was murdered, and to say the timing couldn’t be more suspicious is an understatement.
It’s the wake-up call we both needed. We shouldn’t fit. Shouldn’t want each other. She’s slowly undoing everything I’ve pieced together in my life for stability and security. Hope Ivanov is no doubt my weakness and undoing.
So when I realized she was avoiding me, I tried to stay away. But I was still there. In the shadows. Watching her from afar, practically pining as I fought with my demons to keep my distance.
I rub a lock of her hair between my fingers.
Hope’s so reckless, especially with the statues beneath my bed, but equally, a careless part of me wants to protect her.
And that’s my biggest problem.
I always thought she listened to her family. That she was mostly a sweet, innocent girl. She’s always been intriguing to me. Someone like Hope Ivanov will never stop learning. She respects her family but is independent of them. She works hard, although she doesn’t like being publicly recognized for it. She doesn’t need her parents’ money, but she lets them spoil her. She’s the perfect daughter. The perfect facade for the creature that lurks beneath—the one she’s only willing to show me. And I stayed away for four years because I knew my curiosity would lead to nothing but destruction.
My eyes grow heavy as I stroke her cheek, my touch soothing us both after I broke her in various positions. And I never want to let this moment go. I don’t want to let her go. And I know she’s it for me. She has been from the moment she first approached me, hiding behind those glasses like they were a mask. She’d piqued my interest.