Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Two days she'd been down there, barely touched by another living soul. A little bread shoved in her mouth, a few sips of water, just enough to keep her alive. She was weak, shivering, and I wanted to strip the flesh from the bones of the person who did that to her.
Leah screamed at me. She didn't beg for help. She fought.
The second I cut the zip ties off her wrists, she turned into a Gatling gun of fists. And I loved every blow.
I even smiled, which set her off on another round. I didn't blame her, even then. She didn't know me, and I should've let the cops go first, but I knew she was in that room, and the second I found her in the dark, nothing else mattered.
Finders keepers kept circling in my head.
Because that's exactly what I planned to do. Keep her.
She's leaning into my arm, taking slow, measured steps toward the door of Deck's guesthouse, where she's been staying since the rescue. The police have wrapped up their investigation, but with May gone, Leah's in no hurry to set foot back in the estate.
Decker and I met in basic training. He had a decade on the rest of us recruits, so I called him Gramps. While everyone else chased the girl of the day, he never went wild.
Nor did I.
That's what bonded us. Two men with no interest in the one thing the rest of them couldn't stop chasing.
I run Monarch Ventures with him. His nightclubs were my whole life before Leah. Fourteen-hour days, seven days a week, and I never minded. Same as Decker, before May. Now that he's married her sister, he's making noises about handing me the reins for good.
The bulge in my slacks is shoving through the break in my suit coat, and there's no controlling the monster when she's this close. I clear my throat, praying for an ounce of control.
She's got her sable hair in twisted, soft curls pinned at the back of her head, the rest falling straight to the center of her back. The way it moves against the peach fabric of her dress makes me want to bury my nose in it. I've known that sweet scent since the rehearsal dinner last night, when I finally got close enough to breathe her in.
When she saw me, she thanked me for helping her. It meant more than any recognition I've ever earned. That soft, simple thank you is a trophy. I'll be carrying it around long after she's forgotten she gave it to me.
I couldn't find a single word to say back. She must've thought I was an idiot, standing there with my hands in my pockets and my mouth open, my cock practically nudging his way out of my zipper to make his own introduction.
Her scent stayed with me all night, the way it's with me right now. It's nothing I've ever known, sweet but fresh, decadent and innocent at once. I woke this morning covered in my own cum from the dreams that wreck my sleep, the way every morning has gone since the day I found her. That day, something inside me snapped. I swore off any more stroke sessions. It just didn't feel right anymore.
But my dreams have a mind of their own. Every night, the hours are filled with her.
My lips on hers. My rough, calloused fingers finding her nipples, twirling and pinching them while I stare into her eyes and watch that dreamy look take over. My arms lifting her, dancing her around the room with her feet on mine, giving her the feeling of moving like a breeze.
Then laying her down and making her body mine in every way.
"Smells great in here." I tip my head back just inside the front door and breathe in the home cooking. Fresh bread, the rich, thick smell of roast beef. My mouth waters for a whole new reason.
"That's Henrietta. Her real name is Henryka, but when we were little, we couldn't say that, so she became Henrietta." Leah rolls her eyes playfully, raising her voice so she'll be heard by whoever's milling about in the kitchen. "She insists on cooking these huge meals for me every day, even though I barely touch a few bites."
"You need to eat." I tighten my grip on her hand. She tips a questioning glance up at me.
"I do eat." A quick smile brushes her lips, and I want to kiss her so bad my head's pounding in time with the ache below my belt.
I want all her smiles from now on. I want to teach her those lips were made to curve up, not down.
Or open wide.
The sadness lingering in her eyes makes me pull in a slow breath. It takes her a second to let the smile settle. She's forgotten the joy she deserves. Joy I want to give her.