Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I’ll do the job because I promised, but I’m going to find out why Reyes wants each of these people murdered. I slowly write the last name and then sit back. Well, this is unexpected.
The final person on Urban Reyes’s termination list is Rosalie’s best friend, little Ella Rendale.
EIGHTEEN
Rosalie
I’m a little embarrassed to admit, even to myself, that I’m disappointed to find my bed empty when I tumble onto it. I haven’t been able to banish the memory of that spectacular orgasm, and I want an excuse to tear up the sheets again with Alexei.
Is that stupid? Yes, definitely.
Is that a violation of legal ethics? Without question.
Have I been spared? Of course.
Groaning, I turn onto my stomach, my ankles hanging off the bed, and tell myself to get up, wash my face, and disrobe. But I don’t move. Even with my eyes closed, the room is spinning around me. Just how many drinks did I have, anyway? Thank goodness Alana had both picked me up and dropped me off in her chauffeured car. While I won’t take advantage of my friend’s wealth, sometimes her good fortune comes in handy. Although ending up with Thorn Beathach might not be good fortune. He’s dangerous.
Like Alexei.
I snooze for a while and awaken with the room still dark and my clothes still on. Heat flashes into my face. Thank goodness my half-admitted and definitely moronic plan to escape reality for a night had not come to fruition.
Fingers dance along my ankle and smooth off my high heel.
I jump and flip over, partially sitting up. “What?” Then I stop breathing. Alexei stands in front of me, his scarred torso bare, his face blanketed by shadows. Moonlight streams around his strong body from the window behind him, caressing him while leaving his front in darkness. Like an apparition. One with cut muscle and long-ago healed wounds.
I swallow.
Without speaking, he reaches down and removes my other shoe.
I scamper away from him, sitting all the way up.
He cocks his head, but I can’t see his face. His eyes glow an unholy hue. “Why are you on the bed clothed?”
Barely clothed, really. The silk skirt has ridden up to the top of my thighs, and the slender straps of my tank top are halfway down my arms. My vulnerable state penetrates my still foggy brain. “I fell asleep.”
“I see.” Without seeming to move, he sets his body between my legs, flush against the bed. One finger tugs my strap down more. “You been drinking, Rosalie?”
“Yes.” I swallow, tucking my elbows to my ribs to prevent the top from falling. Why had this seemed like a good idea?
His other finger finds the other strap. “Did you mean to get drunk?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He pulls and the straps slide down my arms while the tank drops to my waist. “You never need an excuse with me, Kotik.” With his fingers still wound around the straps, he also clasps the bottom of the tank and pulls everything over my head. Cool air brushes my breasts, bringing me back to reality completely.
I hold up a hand. “Wait a minute. You know I’ve been drinking.”
His chuckle heats the room. “I do.” He plants one hand on my upper chest and pushes.
I fall back on the bed, and in a second, he swipes the skirt and thong down my legs to toss on the floor. “Wait-wait a second.”
“No.” He drops to his knees and presses his face into my pussy, breathing deep. “I’ve craved your scent all fucking day.”
Wetness spills from me. That should not be a turn on. It’s wrong. He’s all wrong. I’ve screwed up big time. “All right.” I use one hand to push myself to sit again and try to close my thighs.
He looks up, frowning like a treat has been taken away. Keeping my gaze, he sinks his teeth into my thigh.
The erotic bite sends pain and then a burning pleasure through my body. I slap his head. “What is it with you and biting?” Without waiting for an answer, I tunnel my fingers into his hair and grab a good chunk. “You need to listen to me.”
He turns his head, scraping me with the bristle on his jaw. Then, shocking me, he leans back, still crouching between my legs. “I’m listening.”
My throat closes and I release him. He’s listening? Even with his face shrouded by darkness, his eyes gleam. “Um. This is a mistake.”
“This is inevitable.” Even the dark confidence in his tone is arousing.
I scrub both hands down my face. I did this on purpose. I want him. Have I ever wanted a man this much? Is it the danger? Or am I just curious? “This is just sex,” I murmur, relaxing. Okay.
“This is more,” he returns.
I jolt and drop my hands to the bed, curling my fingers into the plush comforter. “You don’t need to say that.” I’m sure he’s full of the perfect expressions to get women into bed with him. I’m just a number, and I’ll make him that as well. A little voice in the back of my head calls me a liar. He’s one of a kind. Good or bad, right or wrong, he’s unique. “I don’t need lies.”