Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Sitting in the velour-covered chair, he spread his legs so I would have to step over him if I wanted to move.
I perched on the bench, crossing my arms.
Ten minutes later, the woman returned, passing me skirts, jeans, T-shirts, and dresses, along with a few gorgeously feminine lingerie sets.
I hung the hangers haphazardly on the hooks.
Kill once again shoved the door rudely in her face with a sharp kick from his chair. Looking at me, he snapped, “Try them on. Then we’re getting out of here. I’m done being around society that doesn’t have a clue about the real world.”
“The real world being the ones with guns and jail sentences and death?” I spun away, not wanting to see a response. Gathering a pretty silver maxi dress off its hanger, I kept my chest to the wall and away from Kill’s prying eyes.
Pulling his T-shirt over my head, I quickly shimmied into the dress. Once the dress was on, I bent and pulled off the ridiculously large board shorts, hiding my modesty.
Kill growled under his breath. “Clever.”
I faced him, hiding my victorious smirk. He might’ve seen me naked once, but I had no intention of letting him see me again. He was still in love with her. He didn’t need to see other women who lacked.
“Does it pass your approval?” My skin burned with anger—it misted from my stomach right through my limbs.
He shifted in his chair, eyes dropping to my chest. “It hides too much.”
I ignored that.
It fit me well; the size was perfect and the color set off my milky skin. Turning to face the wall again, I grabbed a pair of skinny jeans and hoisted them up below the dress. Bunching the material—so he could see the jeans—I turned.
Kill’s jaw was locked, his legs spread.
No! Not again.
I hated this man. I deplored him.
So why had the undercurrent of fighting suddenly switched to intensity?
Chemistry’s cruel trick—sending pheromones into the air—forcing two people together who wanted nothing to do with each other.
I sucked in a breath as my eyes fell involuntarily to his lap. There was no disguising the rapidly building erection beneath the tightness of his black jeans.
His long dark hair fell over one eye, obscuring the blistering want in his gaze. “Fuck, you drive me crazy with your broken memories and pushiness, but I can’t deny you’ve got a gorgeous ass.”
My cheeks pinked as my blood notched up a few degrees.
“Glad you noticed something about me,” I muttered sullenly. Dropping the material of the dress, I turned to get a sequined T-shirt with a tropical umbrella on the front. Ignore him. Then maybe whatever this was would disappear.
Tugging the T-shirt over the front of the maxi, I turned to show him. It bunched over the dress, but at least this way Kill wouldn’t see any part of me. “Does this fit your strict criteria?”
He gritted his teeth. “If you’re trying to piss me off—it’s working.”
I tilted my head, gathering my long hair and twisting it into a coil. “I don’t know what you mean.”
His hips twitched a little. “You know exactly what I mean.”
I smoothed the T-shirt. “You claim we don’t know each other, Killian, so how would I know what you mean?”
He stayed silent.
Sighing, I asked, “What do you think? Yes or no? You’re the one buying it—your call.”
His nostrils flared. “You don’t want to know what I think.”
My stomach twisted. The way he watched me did awful things to my blood pressure. An intolerable ache built between my legs.
I hated him but wanted him at the same time. It seemed my mind was locked to me but my desires weren’t. I knew what appealed to me. Him. This brooding, temperamental man who loved a dead girl. A man who was going to sell me. Trade me. A man who denied me freedom by hiding answers rather than with chain and key.
Turning away, I jumped as Kill suddenly stood up and grabbed my shoulder. He gathered my hair, fisting it into a ponytail. “Take off the dress.” Reaching with his injured arm, he hissed in pain as he plucked the buttercup-yellow bra and panty set off the hook and dangled it in front of my face. “Try this.” His hand tugged my hair. “And I expect you to face me while you do it.”
I gulped.
He let me go, returning to the chair.
My hands shook. Shakily, I put the underwear back on the hook. I wouldn’t—I couldn’t expose myself again.
My eyes snapped shut as he murmured, “Don’t make me tell you again, Forgetful Girl. I want to see you. I want to see how the clothes I’m buying fit.”
He was an ass, but damn if his voice didn’t lick through my insides and make me quiver.
“You’re not being fair.”
His voice throbbed. “I’m not being fair? You threw five hundred dollars in my fucking face. You made me talk about things I haven’t spoken to anyone about. You made me feel things I’ve tried to forget. All of that means you’re completely in my debt. And you said it yourself, these clothes are mine. You’re just the convenient hanger that will wear them for the time being.”