Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“How the other half lives,” I say, looking down at all the people outside running from one building to another as rain pours down.
“Don’t tell me Malek Lombardi slummed it,” he says.
I turn back into the room to find him watching me. “We didn’t exactly take family vacations,” I tell him, my tone wiping any smile off his face because he must realize how true that is.
“How was he? To you and your brother?”
“Absent mostly, thankfully. I mean,” I start, glancing over my shoulder at the scar on his face, the gray patch of hair. “He never tried to kill us so that’s a win, right?”
Jet watches me, no smartass comment for once as I head to the last door.
The bedroom.
My breath catches. The room is every shade of nighttime. Walls and ceiling painted a deep, rich blue with complementary silk drapes that block any light left outside. Here, too, a fire burns low in the fireplace. An antique crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling and, at the focal point, is a king size bed draped in deepest, darkest midnight and on the headboard is an intricate weaving of some king or other, his eyes locking with mine as if he can see.
The door clicks closed and I spin around to see Jet standing tall and watching me, his long black coat nearly brushing the floor. He slides it from his arms and drapes it over the back of a chair. Next comes his holster, the gun still in it.
My heartbeat races as I take him in. Black on black on black, exactly as the devil should be.
With his eyes locked on me, he unbuttons his shirt. He tugs it out of his slacks and strips it off, tossing that, too, over the chair and I can’t help but take in all that skin and muscle and those scars and tattoos. I think I could study him for hours. Days. Hell, forever.
My throat goes dry and when he steps toward me, I take an unconscious one back. A corner of his mouth curves upward because he likes this game of cat and mouse.
Or cat and his little virgin.
“No drink first?” I ask, trying for casual. Still backing away.
“Would you like one?” he asks, no break in his approach.
I shake my head. “Tell me something,” I start as he unbuckles his belt and lets it hang open. He raises his eyebrows waiting. “What are you going to call me when I’m not a virgin anymore?”
He smiles wide, eating the last of the space separating us as the backs of my knees hit the bed.
“Don’t worry about that. You’ll find I’m very creative.”
I put my hands against his chest, feel the heat of him beneath smooth skin and hard muscle. My heart races my head spinning. This is all happening so fast. Too fast.
“Jet, I think…” I start, but trail off, not sure what I mean to say.
He gently unbuttons my cloak. “Stop thinking.” He strips it from me. He’s so close I have to crane my neck to look up at him and I can see in his eyes that he likes this imbalance of power.
And no matter how I may try to deny it, butterflies flutter their wings in my belly, and I press my legs together because I like it too. I like his power over me. I want tonight to happen. I’ve wanted it for a long time. I’ve always been attracted to Jet, from the beginning. There’s always been a pull between us. Maybe it was the fact that he and I were on the outside, standing on the sidelines as Allegra and Cassian’s impossible love grew and we bore witness to it. Maybe it’s that we both want that too. To some extent. In some version. Even if we don’t deserve it.
Even if I don’t.
But it doesn’t mean I’m not nervous. I have never been with a man. Any man. And I have no doubt that Jethro Blackstone does not make love. He fucks.
“But tell me.” He bends down so his mouth is at my ear. “What is going on in that mind of yours, Little Virgin of mine?” he scrapes his teeth over the lobe of my ear and when he draws it out, I gasp as my hands curl around his biceps, moving over hard muscle to his shoulders, my stomach twisted up in knots.
He straightens, hands sliding down over my arms to take my wrists, moving them behind my back. He shifts both into one of his hands and he holds them there as his eyes move over me.
“Are you wondering what my hands will feel like on your body?”
He runs his fingertips over my collarbones and to the back of my neck and goosebumps follow along as he unzips my dress. The air around us is charged, our eyes locked, his dark, mine? I don’t know. All I know is my heart is beating out of my chest as he bends his head to my neck and kisses the curve of it before bringing his mouth to my ear.