Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
I run a hand through my hair before quirking a smile at her. “It’s not exactly how these things usually go,” I explain.
“That’s not a ‘no,’” she points out with her own smile.
I wave my hand in acceptance. “Okay sure. Shoot.”
“How many women applied to be in this pageant?”
Well, I wasn’t expecting that to come out of her mouth, I admit to myself, barely able to control my surprise.
Out loud, I opt for the truth once more. “About a hundred women, more or less.”
Posey nods. “And out of roughly one hundred women, what made you—or whoever it was—pick me?”
I stare at Posey, realizing that she’s voicing aloud the exact same question that I’ve been asking myself ever since I saw her picture in her application.
I have no idea, I lie to myself.
Because of course I know why she was selected: Posey is stunningly beautiful, her curves thick, and her hair like fire. Physically, a perfect female specimen, and even more, a perfect toy for the men of Mirago.
“Your application was strong,” I explain, hoping that she can’t read my mind. But Posey isn’t just pretty, she’s as sharp as a tack.
“Other applicants had to be stronger,” she counters, crossing her arms over her full chest. “I know because I barely put any effort into my application.”
I shoot her a look. “That’s not something the judges would want to hear.”
Posey shoots right back. “I just didn’t think I had much of a chance, so why bother?”
I furrow my brow. “It was your picture,” I admit before I quite realize what I’m telling her.
“My picture?” she asks, startled. “Because it was a little bit sexy or because I showed some leg?”
I chuckle. “It was incredibly sexy, but no, that’s not why, not exactly.”
Posey waits, looking at me as if to say, ‘so why then?’
I’m not ready to share the reason, not yet, maybe not ever.
But I know it’s because of how Posey stared into the camera, her expression full of hope and wonder and a bit of mischief, as if the world had been hard on her but she still sought out the beauty. That her eyes, even though I was looking at them on that flimsy piece of paper, had haunted me from the moment I saw them. That I’d spent restless nights wondering what it would be like to enjoy her body and then fall asleep with her in my arms.
How the hell am I supposed to explain all that to a woman I just met? Hell, I am a creepy fucker.
Instead, I try a different tack. “You know what, I think we should get back to practicing the questions for your interview. There’s still a lot of material to go through.”
“Oh,” Posey says, biting her bottom lip. “Of course, you’re right. Ask away.”
But the sweet woman looks so disappointed, even as she tries to plaster on that fake smile.
“Posey,” I say as I take her hand in mine. “I think we can talk about these things, but I’m not sure this is the right time.”
“Yes, of course,” she says, her voice wavering.
Fuck, I’ve gone and upset her again.
I’ve upset people before. Hell, as the nominal leader of our tribe on the island, I know that many a person has been displeased with some ruling or comment I’ve made. And I’ve rarely let their disappointment affect me. But now, sitting here with Posey, my heart feels like it’s sinking.
I’m thinking about all of this too damn much, I grumble, pissed at myself and pissed that I’m letting Posey’s emotions affect me so much, and yet I let instinct take over.
Swiftly, before I can overthink it and before Posey has time to react, I pull her to me and hold her hard against my chest. She doesn’t struggle but looks up at me with wide doe eyes.
“I need you to stop thinking that you don’t belong here, that you don’t belong with me,” I growl. “Because you do, dammit. Don’t give in to imposter syndrome. You belong here.”
Posey parts her lips, perhaps to protest or to deny my words.
Not this time.
I kiss her, the action impatient and almost cruel—a kiss based solely off of my need to make her listen, make her understand that I get my way and she has no say. That she will be mine, no matter the reason. No matter what might stand in the way.
But as our lips touch, the kiss slowly morphs. I don’t know why it does, but I find myself wanting to show the woman gentleness, affection, and to slow down the fire that seems to burn between us. My mouth slants over hers, my tongue seeking acceptance and she parts her lips beautifully.
But this version of the kiss is far more unsettling. She’s mine, and my heart twinges as a gut feeling of desire broils in my cock. Oh shit, oh shit.