Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
I'm pressed against him, his chest solid, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure he feels it through the thin fabric of his shirt. I’ve never felt more alive, never felt this real. Every single time I thought about him, every time I touched myself in the dark, it never even came close to this. This feeling. This drugging, dizzying taste of him.
“This,” he growls into my mouth, his voice raw, desperate. And I love that I did this to him, that I’m the one who made him come undone like this. “This is the only time I get to be selfish,” he says. “I want you.”
I don’t understand what he means. Not fully. But some part of me already does. Some part of me knows.
This kiss we’re stealing? It’s borrowed time. It doesn’t belong to us. We’re not supposed to be doing this, and we both know it. I don’t know what chains he wears in his life, but I know every link in mine. Still, I want it. I fucking want him.
His hands grip my ass, fingers flexing, and I tighten my legs around him in response. My body answers his call with primal instinct. He kisses me like he’s starving, like he’s been dying for this moment. Passion, fire, desperation, all of it.
And when we finally pull apart, breathless, we stare at each other like we’ve just survived something catastrophic or discovered something sacred. He’s looking at me like he’s trying to memorize me, like I’m a prayer he’ll say over and over again once I’m gone.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, his voice rough and laced with regret. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, lass.”
But I do. I feel it. Every inch of him is tightening with restraint. He’s holding himself back with an iron will, like it’s taking everything not to take me and walk me into the nearest bed, lay me down, and take my virginity like he owns it.
And the scariest part? God, I would let him. I would open myself to him in an instant, without hesitation.
Then, slowly, reverently, his hand skims up my back, fingers gliding until they find my bra strap. I’m trembling. My breath stutters. Is he going to unfasten it? Is he going to take me some place where we can be alone?
But instead, he exhales, heavy and conflicted, and closes his eyes. His forehead rests against mine.
“We can’t,” he murmurs. “We shouldn’t. I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice breaking.
And this time, I know, I know, he means it. He’s not playing. Not hiding. Not being evasive or cryptic. He wants me.
This beautiful, dangerous man, who’s far too old for me, wants me.
Me. Zoya Kopolova. The youngest daughter in the Kopolov family. Innocent, untouched, gangly, awkward Zoya.
My god.
He bends down and presses his lips to my collarbone like it’s holy ground. Like he’s worshiping, not taking. And when he kisses his way up my neck, I shiver and moan, my head falling back, my spine arching.
I’d give myself to him. No doubts. Not a single question in my mind.
Soft, reverent kisses along my jaw, then his mouth finds mine again, and I surrender fully.
“I want you,” I whisper. “Please.”
“Tell me,” he murmurs into my ear. “Please, sweet lass. Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it. I couldn’t say no to you, even if I tried.”
His voice is rough, breaking me down with every syllable.
“You,” I whisper. “I want you. I want to be yours, James. I want… more.”
What am I asking for? Why would I say such a thing, knowing full well I can’t have it?
There’s a pause. A heartbeat. Then he whispers, “Then I don’t want to lie to you.”
I nod.
“Seamus,” he says softly, so softly it barely registers. “My name is Seamus.”
I wait for a click of recognition, but none comes.
I don’t know the name, not really. But it fits. It feels right. And I know in my bones he’s telling the truth now. Seamus is the Irish form of James.
“Call me Seamus,” he says. “No one else does. Nobody else fucking does.”
“What do they call you then?” I ask, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
He hesitates for a beat before he whispers, “Boss.”
A jolt vibrates through my hips. My pulse kicks into overdrive.
Of course they do, don’t they?
Then he slides me slowly, sensually down the length of his body, and his erection presses hot and hard against my stomach. I want him. God, I want him so bad it hurts.
“Seamus,” I beg. He stifles a groan when I say his name. “Please?”
But he shakes his head, his jaw clenched.
“No. Not now. We can’t. It’s too dangerous.” He takes a deep breath. “If only you knew who I was…”
His forehead meets mine on an exhale. The way his face is contorted like this, like nothing short of torture, tells me all I need to know.