Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
The floor under my feet shifts, and my stubbornness swirls away. I am trapped here, not by him, but by my own dedication to my crusade.
“No. I’m not playing a game.”
“Is that what you think this is?”
“I know it is. You’re rich. You have nothing better to do than enact your sick fantasies on whatever victim you choose.”
“You see yourself as my victim?”
“You’ve been stalking me.” I rack my brain, trying to figure out all the ways he might have inserted himself into my life. “You sent me a dress, had me followed.” The last one is a guess, but he doesn’t refute it. “You knew my name.”
“I knew everything about you before you stepped foot in the club. Not just you, I thoroughly vet everyone who comes close to me. In my position, I have to.”
“You researched me.” Suddenly, there’s not enough air in the room. I rub my chest and throat.
His gaze follows my movements like a predator drinking in every flinch, every gesture. I’m only half a foot away from him. My dress is too tight. I want to claw it off.
If he did his research and knows everything, that means he knows about my past. The sordid details written in the papers. The headlines that screamed SERIAL KILLER BUTCHERS FAMILY, TERRORIZES SMALL TOWN, POLICE STUMPED.
He knows. I’m swaying, too hot. I can’t draw breath.
“Inara?”
The room tilts. The heat rolls through me, blooming in my head. I’m dizzy with it.
My legs give way, and I slump.
“Inara!” There’s a crash, the tinkle of broken glass. “Easy, little bird.” Strong arms around me, lifting me easily. Gravity no longer applies. There’s only Rex Roy anchoring me. My world’s shifted so he’s at the center of it.
I’m in his arms, in his lap. Cool air wafts over me, along with his delicious cologne.
I swim back to reality and open my eyes. He’s opened my coat and is holding me, concern etched on his beautiful face.
“Too hot,” I mumble.
He tips me forward so he can strip my coat off. The second he leans back, I slump against his chest.
“Please. Drink.” Something smooth against my lips. A water bottle. I gulp down the cool liquid. I’m letting him take care of me, again.
I close my eyes and soak it in.
He tilts me upright and rubs my back. With his other hand, he strokes my forehead, tucking tendrils of hair behind my ear. “Better?”
I nod. I want to stay here, in the darkness, with my eyes closed, and pretend I only know him as my mystery dom. No more, no less.
When I open my eyes, his face is inches away, his forehead creased with concern. “Who are you?” I whisper.
“You know who I am. More than anyone else, I imagine.” His hand is gentle, cupping the back of my neck. “You know the veneer I present to the world. And you know the things I do when the world is asleep.”
“Why did you kill him?”
“Ah, ah.” He leans back. “Not until you give me what’s mine.”
“My orgasms aren’t yours.”
He just smiles. His hand returns to my back and finds the zipper of my dress. He holds my gaze as he draws his hand down, unzipping me. He moves slowly enough that I could stop him or pull away, but I don’t.
The sleeves of the dress slide off my shoulders. I’m not wearing a bra, and when he notices, his eyes light up. Carefully, as if a sudden movement would frighten me away, he runs the back of his knuckles over my collarbone. Goosebumps rise all over me. He follows their path along my arms, drawing the dress sleeves down until my upper torso is bare. Then he returns to my chest, spreading his hand over my collarbone, grounding me.
“Breathe,” he orders. I stare at the darkness in his eyes, the pupils swallowing up the irises until all that’s left is the faintest brown corona.
I’ve never been so close to another person before. I want to surge upward and press my face against his, rub my cheek against his. Submerge myself in his woodsy, whiskey scent. I’m shaking with need.
How is it the person I most want to be close to is a serial killer?
“Shh, I’m here,” he says. “I’m going to take care of you.” Even his voice invites me to fall in. To trust.
I close my eyes and make myself imagine the crime scene in front of my apartment. The dead body curled up without any blood around him because he had been transported but with plenty of stab wounds in his chest. “You killed him.”
“He touched you, little bird. No one touches what’s mine.”
“So you think I’m yours.”
“Aren’t you?” His hair brushes my cheek. His lips are right at my ear. If I turned my head, I could find his lips with mine. “Will you let yourself go, let yourself be mine? Just for tonight?”