Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
I don’t care.
I’m barely conscious as my vision reddens and it hits my cock, erupting, hurling hot seed, hating that condom for preventing me from marking her.
Fuck, this is dangerous.
These aren’t sane thoughts.
Neither is the lightning in my veins, the way my hips slap hers, the greed in my cock when it unloads so close to her womb I give up my soul.
Dangerous, dangerous fuckery.
When I open my eyes, I’m spent like I never knew I could be.
She gives me a slow, knowing smile as she slides off me a minute later.
Before she gets too far, I pull her into my arms, needing to feel her skin against mine while it’s hot and sticky.
“Ethan.” Her voice is a low hum as she kisses my jaw.
“Yeah?”
“That was incredible.”
No argument there.
I just wonder what happens if it doesn’t slow down.
How much sanity will I give up to hold on to gravity-breaking sex?
How much collateral damage will be done before it’s time to let go?
The room is dark when I wake, blinking groggily at the ceiling.
Hattie snores peacefully beside me, making adorable little purrs with her face half-buried in the pillow.
Strips of moonlight cut through the room in ghostly ribbons, illuminating her arm as it’s stretched out toward me.
Over by the door, I see why I’m awake.
Ares paws at the wood lightly, letting out a low grumble.
“Hey, buddy, keep it down,” I whisper as I swing myself out of bed and Hattie’s warm embrace. “Don’t wake her up, okay?”
He wags his tail as I open the bedroom door and lead him downstairs.
I have some sympathy, knowing he’s an older dog. The canine bladder doesn’t age gracefully, and where will mine be if I make it to his age in human years?
Still.
I suppose it’s nice having some company in the house, even if it’s an ancient dog creeping closer to incontinence.
Hattie, she’s only temporary.
Neither of us should get used to this sleepover shit becoming a regular thing.
I’m a busy man and I like my space.
I’m also keenly aware our expiration date isn’t that far off.
The thought doesn’t make me feel good, so I swat it aside and let Ares out into the backyard.
It’s a full moon tonight and the air smells like distant summer campfires, evening clam bakes, and hints of sea breezes. Even though you can’t see many stars from here, the moon’s glow illuminates everything.
I left the porchlight on and I blink against the sudden brightness.
Ares sniffs around his favorite bushes and I think back to when Hattie first showed up, when both of us tried to pretend the kiss didn’t happen. Back when she—
Fuck.
Cooper Daley’s letter.
With everything else going on, I forgot he ambushed her at the bookstore and asked her to give me a message.
Like I’d be more likely to listen to his bullshit when he went behind my back to target my fiancée.
Hattie isn’t stupid. I know that.
But she’s also human, and she doesn’t have my reasons for distrusting Daley.
Leaving the door open for Ares, I head back inside and find the letter in my office where I left it. My hands twitch with anger as I rip it open and start reading.
Ethan,
I know I’m the last guy you want to hear from right now, but if you read this, hopefully you’ll understand why it’s so important for me to reach out. And why I need to confess.
I haven’t always been honorable with the old man—or with you—but he meant the world to me as a mentor. I can’t stand to be the bad guy any longer.
Back when I was still working with your grandfather, I spotted an opportunity I wouldn’t have had without my time at Blackthorn Holdings. As soon as I left, I scooped up the perfect Long Island properties that Leonidas and his team personally identified but didn’t formally target for acquisitions.
There’s no doubt Blackthorn would have gotten them later if I hadn’t struck first.
I was greedy. I put my own interests ahead of my morals.
I’m not proud of what I did.
In fact, I hate myself for it.
I acted out of ambition, hungry for my own little piece of the Atlantic pie. Leonidas Blackthorn taught me how far you can soar, and I wanted that desperately.
However, I never meant for it to turn out like this.
I always figured I could make it big, apologize to the old man, and make it up to him in good time. But now he’s gone, and I don’t have that chance.
I have to live with knowing I fucked up and I can’t put things right, much less justify my actions with some flimsy excuses.
So that’s why I’m reaching out.
I have another project in mind, and this time I want to do it right in a way that’s mutually beneficial for us.
I have a lead on some land upstate that would make an excellent ski resort. It just so happens to neighbor a large tract of acreage held by Blackthorn but never developed.