Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“It’s not my fault you threw yourself off a cliff, Yulian.” His tone drops, rough and sharp, every word coiled tight like he wants to choke me.
“It kind of is.”
“Excuse me?”
“I had to prove myself to you in some way. You’re kind of hard to impress.”
His upper lip lifts almost in a snarl before he breathes in and out audibly, stops, then smooths his expression. “You threw yourself off a cliff because I’m…hard to impress?”
“Uh-huh. It was a gamble to see if you’d give me a chance, and I won, by the way.”
“You won?”
“Yeah, I didn’t die.”
“Because I saved you.”
“Still didn’t die. Method doesn’t matter, only the result does.”
“Is…your life worth that little to you? Why do you not care whether you live or die?” He exhales a long, tense breath. “Actually, don’t answer that. Just forget it—and leave.”
He starts toward the door, but I’m jumping up from the bed. My foot gets tangled in the duvet, and I lose my balance, but I catch myself, then jog toward him and grab his wrist just when he’s about to leave.
Because fuck that. I won’t allow him to.
Not now.
Not ever, actually.
But let’s not think about that part, because the idea of being in the uncertain for a long time kind of short-circuits my brain.
I haul Vaughn against me. He resists at first, but I’m able to slam him against the wall, not only due to strength—though I use it—but mainly because the moment his eyes drag over me, he turns his head to the side and stops fighting.
The sharp muscles in his jaw flex, and his hand balls into a fist.
“Put something on. I asked the hotel staff to place fresh clothes in the closet,” he speaks from between gritted teeth.
That’s when I realize he’s lost the fight because he saw me in my full naked glory.
Something inside me snaps.
Maybe it’s the tension that could be cut with a knife.
Or the irrational need I have for this motherfucker on the regular.
Or the fact that he’ll leave again, and I’ll be the one dealing with the fallout of the obsession.
As usual.
So I squeeze his wrist tighter as I lean closer, my mouth just a few agonizing breaths from his jaw. He visibly tenses, that brain of his probably conjuring a flight response, but I’ll be damned if I let him slip from between my fingers.
Vaughn has always been someone I’ve never fully grasped, but not tonight.
Tonight, I’ll take what I want.
My voice drops as I speak near his jaw, “You’re the one who removed my clothes, no?”
“Because they were wet,” he says in a firm voice that cracks at the edges.
“Hmm. I’ll take your word for it. Besides.” I lower my voice further, licking my lips. “You can look again, you know. I don’t mind. Unless…” I pause, distracted by the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallows thickly. “You can’t resist me?”
He jerks his face toward me, his lips pursed, and it’s a shame, because now our lips are so close, if he just parted them a little, I would—
“I’m looking at you, now what?” He speaks calmly, trying his hardest to sound bored, but the tension beneath his words betrays him.
I lean forward, but he slams his palm over my lips. “Don’t you fucking dare, Yulian.”
I take his other hand and slide it slowly up the length of my thigh. My cock jumps to life, performing a goddamn standing ovation at the mere promise of Vaughn’s touch.
A rush of endorphins spills into my blood as my skin lights on fire and my heart beats so loud, I think I’m going to have an attack.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Just his hand on me is giving me pleasure I’ve never experienced before.
And I’m ravenous for it.
For him.
For fucking more.
So I guide his hand higher, closer to where my cock is basically jumping out of its skin for contact.
The entire time, my gaze remains on Vaughn. He drops his palm from my mouth, his hooded forest-like eyes zeroing in on his hand that’s on my cock.
I expect him to fight or try to remove it.
Or worse—punch or curse me or warn me not to touch him, but he’s frozen.
No, not frozen.
Riveted.
He’s completely caught in an unreachable focus zone.
His eyes darken and his nostrils flare as I plant his palm on my cock. He must feel it, too—the way it throbs as if vibrating with the same tension coursing through his body—because his pupils dilate and his hand twitches.
It’s as if he’s waiting for something—what, I don’t know, and I don’t give a fuck because my head’s on cloud nine and my heart is spilling into my throat with how crazy it’s beating.
“Fuuuck,” I groan, breathing heavily. “You feel how hard I am because of you, baby?”
He swallows thickly, the tendons in his neck bunching as he grabs my cock in a harsh, unforgiving grip. Of course it gets harder since it’s a literal dick and all.