Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
My core heats, a traitor to my heart and mind as I glance at the wardrobe.
Oh God.
The door’s cracked open.
I have to stop this, but I don’t know how without drawing Oliver’s suspicion.
Anxiety grips me.
“Oliver?”
“Hm?” He finds my zipper and draws it down in one smooth pull.
“Isn’t this against Mr. Davenport’s initiation rules or something?”
“I don’t see anyone but you and me in this room, Novalee.”
How wrong he is.
“But—”
He presses a finger to my lips. “Don’t get me wrong. Coy looks sexy as hell on you, but your body’s been begging for it all night, so allow me to oblige.”
Another tug on my dress, and it slips to the floor. He cups my bare breasts, molding them in his warm palms, catching my nipples between his fingers. With a hint of a grin, he pinches just enough to make me squirm.
“Should have brought a set of clamps.” He lets go only to pull me flush against him, hands kneading my asscheeks.
The elixir surges, unleashed by the antidote. My muscles clench, and the world seems to slam to a halt while the inertia of Oliver’s will carries me in its current.
He guides me to the mattress, then sinks to his knees, his possessive grip spreading my thighs open.
Exposing the truth of my need.
Panic mounts. My eyes sting with desire and guilt—conflicting sides of a decision that isn’t fully mine to make.
Oliver lowers his head between my legs, and I feel Sebastian more than see him through the narrow opening of that door. My heart thumps so wildly I’m certain the entire estate can hear it, the rhythm turning ragged as Oliver works me with unhurried strokes.
He savors my torment, confident he can undo me on his timeline.
And he’s not wrong.
My eyes stay fixed on the wardrobe as he sucks my clit into his mouth, nipping with teasing pressure.
A reluctant moan tears free—a sound of betrayal I wish I could yank back.
And that’s when the tears come.
As if sensing the war of my emotions, Oliver pulls back.
“Novalee?” He rises, one hand wiping me from his lips. “What’s going on?”
My throat tightens around the truth. “I’m okay. It’s just…it’s been a long night. I’m still processing.”
The irony lands heavier than he could ever know, with Sebastian hiding in that wardrobe.
Hearing everything.
Seeing everything.
“You’re shaking again.” He cups my cheek, voice thick. “You don’t have to pretend for me. We can stop. You don’t owe me anything tonight.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Do you want me to go?” He hesitates. “I can stay. Hold you for a while?”
“I could use some time alone.”
“I shouldn’t leave you like this. Aftercare is important.”
“I’m fine. I just need sleep.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Uncertainty lines his face as he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Get some rest,” he says, reaching for a throw blanket on a chair nearby. He wraps it around my shoulders and tucks the edges, and it’s such a thoughtful gesture that my vision blurs all over again.
The room lacks oxygen, swamped by my guilt, making every lungful a battle.
“I’ll check on you in the morning.” With one last caress of my cheekbone, he steps back. “If you need anything, alert the guard.”
“I will.”
He leaves without another word, and I sit frozen as his steps retreat down the hall. The wardrobe door remains ajar, that sliver of darkness both terrifying and magnetic.
Several agonizing seconds pass before Sebastian unfolds from the shadows like a man rising from the grave, his expression indecipherable, even as the blue eyes I thought I’d never see again burn with questions I’m not ready to answer.
2
Here we are again, facing each other as the air around us vibrates with unspoken things.
Explanations.
Questions.
Accusations.
Apologies.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, clutching my chest. “You must be so angry.”
“I’m not angry with you.”
“You don’t need to sugarcoat it for my sake.”
“I mean it. I’m pissed, but not at you.”
“If not me, then who? Oliver?”
He shakes his head. “I’m pissed because everything’s changed.”
“Nothing’s changed. Not for me. You’re here…you’re alive.”
“And it’s not just Liam anymore, is it?”
Silence constricts the air, heavy with the kind of disquiet that forces honesty, because those words carry a weight I’m not ready to bear.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, though the apology rings hollow.
In the next instant, he crosses the room to kneel at my feet, and I can’t bring myself to face him when he’s this close—not with those sea-blue eyes cataloging every jagged piece of me.
“What are you apologizing for, Novalee?”
The absence of “princess” or “baby” shoots through my veins, chilling me from the inside out. I just got him back, and for him to see me with Oliver like that, not even ten minutes into a reunion I’d accepted was impossible…
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” I swallow down the bitter rise of bile. “I regret every second of it.”
He thumbs away a tear from my cheekbone. “There’s no need for regrets.”