Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“If you want easy, go search for easy.”
“Dahlia…” He wraps a hand around my throat, his voice echoing in a low, dark timbre. “You need to learn how to stay the fuck out of my business.”
I sink my fingers into his hair and pull, then get on my tiptoes and whisper against his mouth, “How about no?”
His hot, heavy breaths skim over my lips. God. Why do I want to kiss him? We’re not even having sex, so I shouldn’t need a connection.
This is confusing and illogical.
Kane’s exhales turn harsher, his grip tighter, and his nostrils flare.
He’s containing himself.
Shoving himself behind that wall I hate so much.
“I can handle you, Kane,” I say in a whisper, stroking his hair instead of pulling it.
“You think you can.”
“I know I can.” I wet my lips, and his darkened eyes zero in on the motion, turning molten.
“You know nothing,” he grinds out even as he watches my mouth. “You’re just a fuck, Dahlia. Stay where you belong.”
“And yet you want to kiss me.” I lick his lower lip, leaving a shiny trail of my saliva on his soft skin.
His grip tenses up on my throat. “Stop that.”
“Show me how I’m just a fuck.” I roll my body against the taut ridges of his muscles. “Kiss me, Kane.”
“You’re a fucking nuisance.”
“Kiss me.”
“I hate you.”
“I hate you, too. Kiss me.”
“I’ll fucking ruin you.”
“Prove it. Kiss me—”
My words are stolen when he kills the distance and seals his lips to mine with a groan.
There’s something different about this kiss.
It’s deep and unhinged like the rest of him, but it’s also slower, not as frenzied, not accompanied by his brutal fucking or his constant need to claim and possess me.
His hand tightens on the sides of my throat, his index finger tilting my jaw to the side as he devours my mouth, sensually sucking on my tongue.
There’s anger, too, but it pales in comparison to the way he owns me.
I kiss him back, reveling in how he loses control.
How he shows me his true self.
Only me.
I pull on his hair, then stroke it.
I moan in his mouth and let him manhandle me any way he pleases.
I’ve come to the realization that I can let this man do whatever he wants to me as long as I have him all to myself.
It’s selfishness, I realize. For the first time in my life, I’m coveting something I can’t have.
It’s terrifying, but I can’t stop.
“Who’s this?”
Kane goes still, but he calmly pulls away.
I see it then, in a fraction of a second when his eyes meet mine.
Anger.
No…fear?
He stands to his full height, slightly blocking me behind him, but I still see the man who just spoke.
An older version of Kane, with a hard expression and a tailored suit.
Grant Davenport.
It must be him.
The man who broke Kane and left scars all over his body.
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t know you were bringing guests over, son. Introduce us.”
“She’s no one important,” Kane says in a detached tone, but he’s half hiding me now.
“Oh? If she’s no one important, why is she at my house?”
“Won’t happen again.”
“Introduce us, son,” Grant repeats in the same monotone voice.
I can feel Kane’s entire back going rigid, and I don’t like it.
A protective urge I’ve only felt for Violet washes over me, and I step from Kane’s shadow and force a smile as I offer Grant my hand. “Dahlia Thorne. Nice to meet you, sir.”
He shakes my hand. Hard. And I do the same, hoping to break the fucking hand that he put on Kane.
We finally release each other.
“I’ve never heard of the Thorne family.”
“That’s because they’re not important.”
“Not important,” he repeats in a deadpan tone, then looks at Kane. “If you’re done here, follow me.”
Grant walks down the hallway without another look in my direction.
As he disappears around the corner, Kane faces me, his shoulders still tense but his expression neutral. All the passion and the glimmer of heat from earlier have disappeared.
His walls are back in place, and he looks like a shell of himself. “You go first. Samuel will drive you to your dorm.”
I grab his wrist, an awful premonition tightening my stomach. “Why don’t you drive me? I’ll go to your place.”
“Not tonight.” He calmly starts to remove my hand.
I dig my nails in deeper. “Don’t follow him. He’s going to hurt you like that night against the Wolves. I know he’s the reason you have those bruises.”
Kane clenches his jaw but soon releases a breath. “I see my mother has been sharing things she shouldn’t.”
“She’s worried about you.” And I’m worried about him, too—what the hell?
“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing.”
“Abuse is not nothing,” I whisper-yell.
“Go home, Dahlia.” He strokes my hair and then pats my cheek, the motion cold and lacking any of the warmth from earlier. “If you pity me again, I’ll cut you the fuck out of my life.”