Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Before I know it, we’re winding up the mansion’s long driveway. No lights blaze, and my father’s car is gone, thank God. Inside, the silence is thick. No farewell dinner, no late-night send-off. This might be the last night I ever sleep in my childhood home, and no one seems to care.
I don’t bother with the lights. I know every inch of this place by heart. I climb the stairs with the exaggerated care of someone pretending to be sober and close my bedroom door with a soft click. Off go the heels, then the earrings, and, inevitably, my inhibitions.
I drop my bag and pad barefoot across the plush rug, the hem of my dress brushing my thighs. A bottle of water waits on the nightstand. I drink greedily, trying to slow my heartbeat, trying to forget the way Isaac looked at me, and how close we’d been in proximity.
I shimmy out of the dress and let it pool at the foot of the bed. The top drawer slides open with practiced ease and my fingers find what they’re after without looking. Half-naked, I collapse onto the pillows, heart racing, lips parted, and eyes closed. I picture Isaac’s ice-blue stare, his tailored sleeves rolled to the elbow, his voice issuing commands.
God help me. I hate him. I hate him so much I could scream. Yet my body reacts before my brain can catch up. Heat rolls through me, unexpected and sharp, like I’ve uncorked something I can’t put back.
I slide one hand down my stomach as the other curls around my vibrator. I flick it on and let the sound fill the room, low and intimate. I close my eyes and let the image sharpen. Him pinning me against a wall, growling something obscene into my neck, and those big, rough hands gripping my thighs like they belong to him.
He wouldn’t even need to touch me. He’d just direct and command, and I’d…
A sharp rap splits the air. I freeze, heart hammering even louder. Shit.
I fumble the vibrator off and shove it under the covers. My legs tangle in the sheets as I grab the nearest robe, cinching it tight while I school my expression. The knock comes again, harder.
I cross the room, heart hammering, robe half tied, and completely annoyed. If no one’s going to give me a proper goodbye, the least they could do is leave me alone so I can get off.
I swing the door open expecting staff, or worse, my father. Instead, it’s Isaac. I blink, rub my eyes, half-convinced the tequila has turned him into a hallucination.
But when my vision clears, he’s still there, shoulder propped against the frame, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other braced on the wall. That infuriating smirk is back, cockier than ever.
“One thing you should learn about me, wife,” he says, voice low and infuriatingly smug, “is that I’m a man of my word.”
5
ISAAC
The moment the door swings open, I know I’ve caught her off guard. Her robe hangs half-tied, cheeks flushed, and hair a tumble of messy waves. Her lips part in surprise, eyes wide and uncertain. Nothing like the hellfire she’s hurled at me since the moment we met.
Behind her, barely visible across the room, half-tucked beneath the covers, lies a sleek purple vibrator. Well, this has been made way easier for me now.
I drag my gaze back to her face, watching color flood her cheeks when she realizes what I’ve seen. She shifts, sliding into the hall to pull the door halfway closed, but it’s far too late.
My mouth curls into a slow, deliberate grin. “Thinking about me, were you, wife?”
She opens her mouth, then snaps it shut. Her throat bobs as she swallows. Her eyes narrow, but the panic behind them is impossible to miss. She really was thinking about me. Holy shit.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Her voice is sharp, but the edge is dulled. Her stance is defensive, but her legs are too close together. Unsteady. Drunk.
I step forward, slow and deliberate. “Figured I should check in on you.”
Her brows furrow. “I was just…”
“Trying to annoy me?” I cut in. “I figured.”
I lean one shoulder against the doorframe. My hands stay in my pockets. I make no move toward her.
“But here’s the thing,” I continue, tilting my head slightly, “I’m a patient man. It takes a lot more than that to rattle me.”
She glares. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty more where that came from,” she says, forcing toughness, but the crack in her voice gives her away. I’ve found the weak spot in her armor.
“I actually found it amusing,” I say, my voice low.
Her chin lifts stubbornly. “You’re easily entertained,” she quips. “No surprise there.”
I glance past her again, deliberately, and watch her fingers tighten on the robe, her whole body stiffens because she knows exactly where my mind is.