Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
I stare at her in disbelief. Both her stubbornness and her pillow fort are ridiculous, but the way she’s taken over my space as if she belongs here has my cock knocking at the zipper in my pants.
I love her sass, but I’ll never admit that out loud.
“Fine,” I say, too tired to argue but also too curious about my cock’s odd response to her invasion of my space to walk away.
I pull off my shirt, then my belt, then the rest of my clothes until I’m butt fucking naked.
Azra’s head snaps up. She tries to keep her eyes locked with mine. I give her effort a solid two out of ten. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“I don’t sleep in pajamas.” I toss my clothes onto a chair. “Should you wish to share my room, you’ll have to get used to that.”
When I cross the room, my dick swinging like a pendulum in a grandfather clock, Azra disappears behind the wall of pillows like a startled animal and hides her flushed cheeks beneath the blankets.
While she grumbles under her breath that I’m a jerk, I slide into bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. Anger blooms in my chest, but that isn’t all that’s there. I’m also curious as fuck, and hard enough to drill diamonds.
Silence reigns supreme for the next several minutes before a muffled voice comes from the other side of the pillow fort. “You need to keep your dick in your pants.”
I smile without fear that it will express something I don’t mean. Azra stacked the pillows so high that they’re halfway to the roof, hiding my reaction. “Why? Are you jealous, micina?”
Her disgusted Ha! should shrink my dick.
It doesn’t.
Its throbs are near deafening.
“This isn’t about jealousy,” she says. “It’s part of the contract. If you’re cheating, you obviously think little of me, which means Ant—he won’t think much of me, so keep it in your pants.”
While rolling onto my side, I knock down several pillows just to annoy her. “If I have to give up sex, then you better cough up some benefits. I’m a man. I have needs.”
A disgusted grunt ripples her lips. “I’d rather die.”
“That’s exactly what will happen to me if I’m deprived. Blue balls are a silent killer. Ask any man.”
After another gag, the silence returns, stronger than ever.
Over the next several minutes, I mull over how I should be annoyed that my father forced me into this situation, or at the very least frustrated, but all I can think about is how Azra’s attitude might very well kill me, and how even the threat of death wouldn’t prevent me from signing up for a second round.
Chapter 8
Matteo
I’ve been awake for hours, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling as if it holds answers to questions I’m too fucked in the head to ask. The plaster above me is smooth and unremarkable. It’s the same ceiling I’ve stared at a thousand times over the past thirty-three years, but tonight it feels different. Heavier somehow. The weight of everything I’m refusing to think about presses down on me, making it impossible to close my eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.
Except for a faint sliver of light leaking in from the hallway, the room is dark. The thin line cuts across the floorboards and stretches over the bed, amplifying the invisible line Azra drew between us.
I shift on my side, my movements gentle enough not to disturb the mattress. A change in position doesn’t help. Nothing will. My body is exhausted, but my mind refuses to shut down. It’s been running in circles for hours now.
Inhaling slowly, I will myself toward sleep.
That’s when it hits me again.
Azra’s seductive scent.
It isn’t because she’s lying next to me, protected behind the ridiculous pillow fort she rebuilt before settling in for the night. Her scent lingers on my cock, faint yet unmistakable. It clings to my skin, as it did to the SUV, which is why I insisted one of the Caruso foot soldiers bring my bike to Lombardo’s.
Now it’s here, in my room, on my bed, and in my fucking lungs.
It’s subtle but annoyingly familiar.
It’s a scent that sneaks up on you and refuses to leave once it’s there.
I cannot figure out why Azra has made me so unhinged. I’ve never learned names, for fuck’s sake, but I know it’s hers, and no matter how many times I tell my cock it’s off the table, he really wants me to grunt it out while screwing her senseless.
I close my eyes. It only makes it worse. Despite the barrier between us, her scent becomes more intense. It curls around my senses like her lips circled my cock.
Flashes of her kneeling in the back of the SUV play through my head like a movie. With stubborn determination, she raised her chin, striving to hide her fear, and her hands pumped my cock as if I paid for the privilege.