Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” he breathes, his eyes roaming over me. “I know I keep saying it, but you’re perfect.” He shakes his head. “Perfect isn’t even a good enough word.” Caldwell almost sounds like he’s talking to himself there at the end.
There’s a knock at the door, making me tense. I’m guessing it’s room service.
He doesn’t move. His hands stay on my thighs, his thumbs tracing circles on my inner skin, dangerously close to where I’m already wet and aching for him.
“Caldwell,” I whisper. “The door.”
“Let them wait,” he says, leaning in and kissing my throat, my collarbone, and the top of my breast. “I want to taste you again.”
“They’ll hear,” I protest, but I’m arching into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair. He groans loudly against my skin, a sound of pure frustration, and pulls back.
“Don’t move. I want to look at you while I eat.” I fight a small laugh. Does he really want to watch me naked over breakfast?
He opens the door, and I hear a male voice. “Room service for Prince—”
“Thank you,” Caldwell cuts him off, taking the cart. But I barely register the words because I’m looking at his phone, still on the coffee table where he left it.
The screen lit up with a text. Just for a second. Long enough for me to see the name.
Cordelia.
And the preview: Are we still on for tonight? Can’t wait to see you in your tux.
My heart sinks. The blood drains from my face. Cordelia. The wedding. His date. He lied.
I pull the robe closed, my hands shaking, and slip off the table. I start to head back for the bedroom when Caldwell wheels in the cart. He must be able to read my expression because he instantly knows something is wrong.
His eyes narrow, searching my face. Then he looks at the table. At his phone.
“Shit,” he mutters.
But before I can say anything, the room service attendant—a young guy with dark hair and a friendly smile—leans around the doorframe. “Sir, I forgot the—” He stops. His eyes land on me, on the robe that I thankfully closed, and on my bare legs. His smile starts to falter before a full-on smile overtakes his face.
I don’t know what’s happening when Caldwell moves so fast I barely see it. He’s across the room in an instant, putting his body between me and the door, blocking the man’s view.
“Get out,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. I even take a step back.
“I was only—”
“Now.” Caldwell’s hand is on the door, his shoulders tense, his whole body radiating fury, which I didn’t think was possible. “And if you look at her again, I’ll have you fired.” Caldwell leans in, whispering something into his ear.
The attendant’s eyes widen. He stammers something and quickly disappears. Caldwell slams the door and turns to me, his expression still dark.
“Did he see you?” he demands. I stare at him, confused by the intensity of his reaction.
“He just saw me in a robe. It’s not—”
“Then yes, he saw you.” Caldwell crosses the room, lifting me off my feet again, putting me back on the table. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me open again despite my attempt to close the robe. “He saw this. And he wanted it.”
“He didn’t—”
“He did.” Caldwell kisses me hard, possessive, his teeth grazing my lower lip. “I saw the way he looked at you. Like he wanted to take you from me.”
I’m reeling here. The text from Cordelia. His jealousy over a stranger. The intensity in his eyes that should scare me but instead makes me want to surrender. I don’t understand how he can look at me, and I cut my own thought off.
“Caldwell,” I whisper. “Who’s Cordelia?”
He goes still. His hands tighten on my thighs.
“She’s...” His eyes meet mine. “She’s no one.” No one? Is that what he thinks of a girl when he’s done with them? That he found me in the airport and decided to hop beds.
“She’s your date for the wedding.” My voice is small, and I hate that. I want to be confident and unbothered. “I saw the text.”
I see panic there. Real panic. “Mable, it’s not what you think. She’s—my mother arranged it. I never—”
“You’re going to the wedding with her.” I push at his chest, but he doesn’t move. He flipped when a random man saw my legs; that wasn’t even my fault, but he’s got a whole freaking date! “While I’m here, in your room, in your bed—”
“Stop.” He catches my wrists, his grip firm but gentle. “Look at me.”
I do, and I hate that there are tears in my eyes. I hate that I care this much. We just met. This is just a fling. I have no right to feel betrayed.
But I do.
“Cordelia is nothing,” he says, his voice rough. “A family obligation. A name on a list. You are—” He breaks off, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You are everything. You are the only one I want.”