Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
When the cold metal glides over the tiny triangle of material, I jolt at the sensation.
“There’s not an ounce of pride left in you, is there?” he goads me. “What would your fiancé say if he could see you right now?”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. Want to see if he’s available? Maybe he could give you some pointers—"
A humorless laugh cuts through the air. There’s something so eerily calm about his demeanor as he slips the blade beneath the band of my thong and slices through one side, then the other. But beneath the surface, I can sense the shift in him. It’s like a shadow stepping into its own darkness.
“I’m glad you like games, cara.” He tugs the scraps of fabric and tosses them aside, leaving me bare and exposed. “I want to play one now.”
The cool air hits the most vulnerable part of me, setting every nerve on fire. I hate that he was right. I don’t have an ounce of pride left beneath the anticipation thrumming through my veins.
He circles around to my front and lowers to his haunches. I nearly jump out of my skin when he clamps a large hand around my thigh and slides it down to my calf. He wields the blade with shocking efficiency as he slices through the restraints on each of my ankles.
Uncertainty paralyzes me as he rises and returns the blade to its sheath. Regardless, it doesn’t matter if I can move because he does it for me. He pulls me from the chair and forces me to walk, steering me from behind using my bound wrists.
I comply until I realize he’s pushing me toward the guard railing on the edge of the rooftop.
“Wait.” I stop and jerk back, trying to dig my feet into the floor beneath me.
“Oh, Abella.” Amusement darkens his voice as he yanks me against his body and clamps an arm around my waist. He picks me up with the same effort he’d use to lift a pillow. “I could launch you off this rooftop without even trying if I felt like it. I guess I’ll have to be careful with you.”
A wave of adrenaline sweeps through me as he hauls me toward the only barrier between solid ground and a 60-story freefall. I resume my fight, but he proves his point by hindering every attempt I make to free myself from his grasp. I’ve never considered myself weak, but when it comes to his size and strength, I’m no match.
Cold dread settles in my gut as we reach the perimeter and he sets me upon my feet, only to grab my bound wrists and bend me over the railing.
A scream rips from my lungs as gravity pulls me forward, my feet losing purchase as I dangle precariously over the metal biting into my hips. I stare down the open grave of the city streets below, his grip around my wrists my only lifeline.
In that moment, everything comes into focus. The distance from the rooftop to the sidewalk below. The breeze rustling strands of my hair. The blood rushing to my head. Every sense is heightened as my mind races and my heart gallops.
“Please,” I beg.
“What’s the matter, bella? Don’t you trust me?”
“I don’t know you!”
“No?”
His response sends a shiver of awareness through me. From the moment I heard his voice tonight, it stirred a whisper of a memory. But it wasn’t just that. It’s the way the air shifted around him, charged like a storm was on the horizon. I couldn’t see him, but I felt him. Every cell in my body recognized his presence and the craving I never could let go.
Except, it can’t be him.
So who is he?
He slips his free hand beneath my dress, skimming the fabric up my thighs and draping it around my waist. My brain registers how exposed I am when a low sound vibrates from his chest, like he’s been thinking about this moment for a long time.
His palm glides over my hips and down to the curve of my ass, grabbing a handful and giving it a smack. It lights up every pleasure receptor I have and sends a confusing mixture of fear and desire through me.
My mind is at war, torn between surrendering to the thrill or fighting for survival. In this scenario, I’m completely vulnerable to him, and if I’m being honest, there’s something intoxicating about that. It’s a primal desire—the idea of being chased, captured, and dominated by the strongest predator—only for him to become the protector.
He feeds into that power when he slides his hand between my legs and uses his fingers to spread me apart. It’s indecent and humiliating, but that’s the point.
“I guess you do like it.” His thumb barely grazes me, and a rush of pleasure licks down my spine. “You’re dripping wet.”