Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
His blue eyes flare with anger, like the hot, brilliant blue centers of a flame.
“Us?” he asks with a cruel smirk and strained voice. “There is no us, Isla. What do you think this is, some kind of twisted fairytale in which you walk away with a happy ending? You have no idea who I am. You don’t understand what I am. I destroy what I love.”
One word, “love,” dominates his statement. Admittedly, I’m taken by surprise and it knocks me off balance.
This man is a monster, and I can’t forget that I’m trapped here in this place against my will. This one overly powerful man has essentially taken my life and holds me in this purgatory, determining my entire future. I should hate Vincent Moretti with every fiber of my being. I shouldn’t believe anyone, not even him, would choose me. In the past, whenever I’ve allowed someone in, I’ve ended up disappointed. It’s hard to trust that anything is real anymore. But even as I stare into the danger of his eyes, it’s hard not to see that the Devil himself might have beauty buried deep inside his soul somewhere.
I struggle against my emotions as I wrestle with my ability to trust a man who is nothing but red flags and warning labels. And as soon as I open my mouth to question him, Vincent pushes his body toward mine, pressing me up against the wall and pinning me there as he kisses me again.
This kiss feels unlike the previous one. It’s hungry, forbidden, and not at all gentle. His chest presses against mine so tightly that I can barely breathe, and his hand grabs the side of my hip so hard as it roots me in place that I know it will leave a bruise.
I’m not afraid of getting hurt, though. Right now, my desire for Vincent outweighs any fear I might have. His tongue pushes into my mouth, wrapping around mine as I try to catch my breath and kiss him back. I can feel the hardening bulge at the front of his pants pressing against my pelvis and it sends sparks throughout my body as if I’m suddenly coming to life for the first time. I reach my hand up to twist my fingers in his hair and in response, he kisses me harder.
I couldn’t move even if I wanted to escape from him at this moment. He’s strong and commanding and has complete control over my body now. But there’s also something new about Vincent that I can taste on his tongue as it sweeps inside my mouth—a frantic, feverish desperation, as if he’s trying futilely to gain control over not just me but also himself, and he can’t. He breathes raggedly through his open mouth, his chest heaving. The throbbing in his groin is so palpable that I can feel it against me. When I reach down, touch his pants, and tug at the button, I challenge Vincent’s carefully practiced control.
For a moment, he moves his mouth from mine and puts his lips to my ear. His entire body is trembling, muscles flexing as he threatens to crush me with his weight against the wall.
“Do you feel this, Isla?” he asks with a strained and sultry voice. “Do you feel how I can wield power over you and control every inch of your body?”
I try to speak but can’t, so I nod instead, feeling my cheek rub against his face as I do.
“Good. Then you can feel the beast inside of me that you’re threatening to release.”
“Please,” I say in a heady whisper. “Vincent, I want—”
He stops me before I can finish. “Be careful, my ballerina,” he warns as the stiffening of his cock against my body presses like steel between my thighs. His voice, though never raised or loud, remains terrifyingly tempting. “Be careful walking the fine line that you’re on—tempting me, resisting me, enraging me. You’re playing with a fire that will burn us both.”
When he brings his face back to mine, his narrowed eyes have a darkened depth in them that hints at a storm brewing within him. He stays pressed against me but lessens his weight against the wall to allow me a deep breath, which I drink in greedily. Vincent traces his fingers up the side of my neck and along the curve of my cheek, holding my face to his as he kisses me one last, lingering time. It’s slow, strong, and not-so-subtly dominant before he pulls away from me and leaves me unsteadily perched against the wall. A shot of cold runs through me as I place my palms on the cold, flat surface to quench my shaking.
“Next time you beg, Isla. I won’t stop,” he says before opening the door and walking out of the penthouse.