Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
That’s rich coming from him. He was talking to girls outside of my school. I know he spends a lot of his nights at Matteo’s clubs, and there’s no doubt he has more than enough females there to speak to. Ones that are prettier, sexier, and more experienced. I bet he talks to them a lot. I once asked Matteo when the club closed, and he said around three. Nikolai usually gets home way later than that. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess where he likely is.
I know I shouldn’t care, but I can’t help myself. I mean it’s not like he’s mine or anything. He’s free to do whatever he pleases. Even as I think those thoughts, my stomach starts to sour. The second the elevator opens, I rush off. I don’t get far. Nikolai grabs me by the wrist, stopping me.
“Your knees.”
“We already went over this.” I tug on my arm, but Nikolai doesn’t release his hold on me.
“And I told you that we weren’t done.” He starts walking. I have no choice but to follow him. He goes down the hallway that leads to his room. There are a few rooms this way, but I never ventured down here. I always think of it as Nikolai’s area.
“Where are we going?” He opens the door at the end of the hallway, leading me into his room. It’s massive. Does this condo have two freaking master suites?
“I'm going to look at your knees.” He tosses my bag and book onto his bed. “Sit.” He points. I want to protest but I know by the look on his face that it would do me no good. He’s made up his mind. And if there’s one thing I’ve come to learn about Nikolai, it’s that once he’s set his mind to something, there’s no changing it.
“On the bed?” I squeak out and hate myself immediately. Heat rushes to my cheeks. I’m such a geeky virgin, and that has never been more clear than at this moment. Next, I’ll tell him I’ve never been in a boy's room before. Scratch that. Nikolai might only be eighteen, but he is a man. None of the boys in my school appear to be anything like Nikolai.
"Yeah, on the bed.” He lets go of my wrist and grabs my hips. Nikolai pushes back, forcing me to sit down. My skirt rides up. His eyes drop to my thighs.
Embarrassed at my chubby thighs that have never seen the sun, I push my skirt back down to cover them. Nikolai says something in Russian again, shaking his head before disappearing into his bathroom. He comes back out a moment later with a first-aid kit.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him as he drops down to his knees in front of me. He places his hands on the outside of my thighs, making my skirt push back up a few inches. My instincts beg me to pull it back down, but I don’t want to lose his touch. I’m finding that I like it way too much.
“I don’t mind.” His thumbs brush back and forth, causing me to get goosebumps. The silence falls, and Nikolai remains motionless except for the motion of his thumbs. It's the simplest touch, but my body responds to it. My thighs part on their own, and my nipples are growing hard. What the hell? I have to get out of this room before I do something else to embarrass myself more.
“Nikolai?”
“You’re soft,” he says. His eyes are still cast down, I think on my thighs, but it’s hard to believe he’d be staring there.
“I’m pasty.” I don’t know why I feel the need to point this out to him. It’s not like he’s blind.
“Nah, it’s like silky porcelain.” His fingers are the opposite. They’re rough. His touch feels wonderful against my skin.
“I guess it’s the Irish.”
“That why you have freckles too?” His hand moves, his fingers drifting across the top of my thighs. He takes one finger and guides it to one freckle, then to another. There are probably a half dozen that sprinkle across my legs.
“I, ah—” I lick my lips. “Maybe.” My stomach dips. What’s happening here? I can feel my panties start to grow slick. Nikolai suddenly jerks his hands back, maybe remembering it’s me he’s touching and not Becky. Gah, I hate that my mind keeps going there.
He opens up the first-aid kit. “This might burn,” he tells me before brushing the alcohol pad across my knee. It might burn, but I don’t feel it. All I can think about now is the throb that is lingering between my thighs and the fact that Nikolai is on his knees in front of me.
Then he goes and blows on it. I close my eyes tightly. I might be naïve, but I’ve read a ton of dirty books. Everyone thinks I’m always reading some fancy literature from the 17th century. I think it’s the glasses that throw them off.