Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 153544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Not me, because I only go back to the States in the summer.
Knowing his presence is unwanted, Gareth lounges on a seat by the window a few rows ahead of us, buds in ear and a tablet in hand.
I’m by the window while Glyndon is beside me, her pupils dilated and her lips puffed out and parted. But since she’s a slippery rabbit, she still cranes her head to watch the scenery, despite her obvious aerophobia.
She’s been stiff, had multiple freak-out sessions, and drove herself to the point of panic in only the half hour since we departed. And while focusing on her has been dulling my thoughts about where we’re going, I don’t like seeing her like this.
The good thing is that the fear and a cup of coffee have sobered her up a little.
She’s still a bit drunk, judging by the slow blinking and the glittering in her bright green eyes.
“Stop looking out the window if you’re so scared.”
“What if we fall, like nosedive straight into the ocean. We’ll all die, be eaten by sharks, and they might never find us. It’ll hurt so bad.”
“Actually no, we’re over twenty thousand feet up, so if we do fall from this height, the g-force of it will black us out in about twenty seconds. The good news is, you’ll feel nothing. Bad news, there will be no remains to recuperate since the power of the crash will disintegrate us and the body of the plane.”
She finally wrenches her attention from the window to stare at me as if I murdered her favorite puppy. “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Depends on whether or not you stop thinking we’ll crash. Those aren’t really common.”
“But they happen.”
“Then think of this as your last battle cry. Wanna have one final fuck?”
“You’re not funny.” She swallows. “Flights really make me nervous. It’s why I make Cecily and Ava drive with me all the way from London to the island.”
“That’s because your head is in the wrong place. Instead of focusing on the crash and the plane, you need to occupy your time with something else.”
“Like what?”
“Get on my lap.”
“I’m not in the mood for sex, Killian.”
“I won’t fuck you.”
“Really?”
“Really. Gareth could hear your loud sounds of pleasure and then I’d have to throw him out of the plane. So come here.”
She hesitates for a beat before she stands up, then stops. “You just said it. Gareth is right there.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t touch you.” I grab her wrist and pull her so her legs are spread out on my thighs.
Then I wrap my arms around her middle, stroking the skin beneath her top in slow circles.
She stares at me for a beat, her breathing slowly calming down. So I kiss her forehead, enjoying the shiver that goes through her body.
“Better?”
“Yeah.” She sulks. “But I still don’t want to talk to you.”
“You can still use my body heat to calm down.”
“You’d allow yourself to be used?”
“By you? Absolutely.” And I mean that shit. If this woman asks me to cut my chest open and show her the organ she’s asked for, I’d rip it from its tendons and lay it at her feet.
All the other bullshit she asked for won’t be happening, though.
It’s simply impossible.
Her neck reddens, and I swear she’s blushing, probably touched, but then she lets her loathsome mouth take over. “Still doesn’t give you the right to kidnap me.”
“Didn’t you want more from me? I’m taking you to meet my parents.”
Her gaze strays sideways, and I hate it when she breaks eye contact. I have to see her all the time, and she’s never shied away from me, so when she breaks our connection, I feel a weird sense of loss.
As if feeling the change, her gaze slowly meets mine again. “How many have you tried this trick on?”
“You’re the first.”
“Am I supposed to feel special that I beat all the girls—and apparently boys?”
“Five out of five highly recommended, and don’t be homophobic. Doesn’t look well with the rest of your morals.”
“Homophobia has nothing to do with this. I’m just thinking if maybe I’ll find you with a man or a woman in bed in the future.”
“Probably both at the same time.” When she pales, I add. “That was a joke.”
“I thought you don’t joke.”
“I do with you.”
She places a hand on my shoulder, probably for balance, but I choose to think that she also wants to be touching me in some way—the way I am with her.
“Are you bisexual?”
“Nikolai is.”
“And you? Are you attracted to men?”
“Not really. I was attracted to any holes available. Gender didn’t matter.”
“Was?”
“It’s been months since I didn’t care for sex in general, whether with men or women. They were all getting repetitive, bland, and painfully dull.”
“Until you found me,” she whispers.
“Until I found you. On the top of that cliff, you looked so innocent and naive, I wanted to tarnish you in some way, ruin that apparent innocence and see what was behind it.”