Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
But not enough to let go.
The only sound between us was our breathing, rapid and uneven. Whatever this was between us, he felt it too, at least to some degree.
“I’m going to let go of you now,” he said. Like he had to verbally command his body to follow orders.
“Okay,” I whispered, neither of us moving.
The tension was both suffocating and intoxicating. It fogged my mind with bad ideas. Every second that ticked by brought me closer to stepping forward and rising to stand en pointe so I could set my lips on his.
Even though he had a body built for fighting, I doubted he’d stop me if I tried.
There was chaos swirling in his eyes when his fingers finally peeled off and let my wrist go. His shoulders shifted back and put distance between us, dispelling some of the tension and making me able to breathe again.
“The good news is,” he said, “you’ll be rid of me in another day or two.” The distance seemed to give him some power back, and he cocked his head to one side. “Can you suffer through until then?”
My mouth dropped open. The emotional swing from irritation to desire and back to irritation left me reeling, like I hadn’t spotted my turn on a triple pirouette. Perhaps he was doing it on purpose. He couldn’t do anything about his physical attractiveness, but the irritating part?
Well, that he absolutely could control.
He’d asked if I could tolerate him, like it was a challenge—and I wasn’t going to lose. “Yeah,” I said dryly. “I’ll survive.”
I needed more space from him and stalked over to the dresser, setting a hand on top to use it as an impromptu ballet barre. When I began work on placement, I had expected him to take this as his sign to leave, yet there was no sound of him moving to the door.
He remained, watching.
Fine. He wanted a show? I’d give him one.
“Have you ever been to the ballet?” I turned my back to him and checked my form in the mirror hanging over the dresser.
“What do you think?”
I rolled my eyes, pulling my leg up into a grand battement, my working leg pointing straight up to the ceiling. I could see him in the mirror, so if he’d been paying any attention, he would have seen my annoyance. But he wasn’t looking at my face. In fact, it looked like he hadn’t realized I could see him, because his expression—
Oh, God—it dripped with pure desire.
My mouth went dry and a muscle low in my belly clenched. It made my heart beat wildly out of rhythm.
As soon as his gaze found mine, his face went blank and he bolted from the room.
Uh oh, the voice in my head whispered.
I wouldn’t last five seconds if he looked at me like that again.
9
JASON
That was a fucking disaster. Maybe I should let Caroline replace me.
I shouldn’t have listened to Laurel’s conversation or barreled into her room when I realized she wanted me gone, and I certainly shouldn’t have put my hand on her. I could not make myself let go.
You’re irritatingly attractive.
Her words played on repeat, tumbling through my mind. The excitement it gave me was all kinds of inappropriate. I’d tried to push her away, even when I wanted her near. And I didn’t trust anyone else to take over her protection detail. I was the best, and didn’t she deserve that? Hadn’t she earned it with her toughness?
Like an idiot, I’d thought she couldn’t see me when she’d lifted her sculpted leg high into the air, moving like it was effortless for her. Fuck, it was wrong, but I wanted those legs wrapped around me. I’d stood there lusting after her and realized too late she’d seen it all.
No wonder she felt uncomfortable.
Caroline lifted an eyebrow when I returned to the living room.
“She said it’s fine,” I mumbled, but she didn’t look like she believed me. She disappeared into Laurel’s room to confirm.
The girl who found me irritatingly attractive stayed there even when Caroline left. Every once in a while I’d hear a soft thud or the dresser rattle, sounds of her moving around. It was hard to get my head around the notion that my witness was dancing in the next room.
It went quiet after a while and stayed silent long enough for me to believe she’d gone to bed for the night, which allowed me to relax to a degree. Though I was tired, I’d rather keep my interactions with her limited, so I offered to take the first night watch.
My plan backfired horribly when she appeared in the living room dressed in regular clothes again, her hair still damp from the shower she’d taken. She walked past me and went to the fridge. The bottle of beer with the familiar label on the door rattled when she pulled it open, drawing her attention for a moment. It must have been left over from some previous use.