Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
He’s very well-built—muscular, but not bulky. A prince through and through.
“Hi, sorry to interrupt,” I announce in my usual cheerful tone and touch Eli’s bicep, trying not to feel up the taut muscles. “Aunt Elsa is asking for you.”
It’s subtle, but he slips from underneath my hold, steps back, and offers Kylie a smile. “It’s been lovely talking to you.”
“Hopefully we can do it again soon?”
“Hopefully.”
She smiles at me, probably not seeing me as a threat, and I return it with a plastic one.
However, I have no capacity to focus on her, because Eli’s already walking away.
I jog, careful not to trip on my stilettos, and catch up with his long strides.
“She’s not by the pool,” I offer, knowing she’s with Mama and my other friends’ mums, probably sharing stories about their husbands.
His gaze strays to me, gray and mysterious, and it takes superhuman effort not to squirm.
Why is he able to effortlessly destabilize me? I seriously hope there’ll be a day when I’m not this affected by his attention. It’s both terrifyingly exciting and downright draining.
He raises an eyebrow. “Where is she, then?”
“Follow me.”
He says nothing, but he walks a few steps behind me as I lead him to the back garden. Some people are out here for a smoke and chatting. Many of them are my friends from secondary school.
“She’s just out there,” I say in my happy-go-lucky tone, waving at some of my classmates.
“Happy Birthday, pink princess!” Vance says and throws me a kiss.
I pretend to catch it and put it in my pocket. “Thanks, V!”
I steal a glance at Eli, but he doesn’t seem to have even heard the exchange.
My chest is pricked by a thorn of disappointment, but I ignore the sense of rejection. I still haven’t hit him with my secret weapon.
The chaos dies down behind us as we keep walking until we reach the small greenhouse Mama helped me decorate with pink flowers and roses.
I’ve spent late nights dreaming about bringing him to my secret spot and days making Cecily’s ears bleed with my plan for our future.
My and Eli’s, I mean.
Three children, two dogs, and three cats.
He strides over as if he anticipated the location, stops by a bed of colorful flowers, and stares at me as he slides his hands in his pockets.
A blur of heat sneaks beneath my skin as I catch my reflection in his pitch-black eyes.
When he speaks, his rough voice sets my goosebumps on edge. “What’s the purpose behind this?”
“You knew Aunt Elsa wasn’t here.”
“Partly because I saw her drinking with Aunt Kim on the way here.”
I wince but hide it with a smile. “Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday?”
“Happy Birthday. Mum brought you whatever gift she thinks kids your age would like.”
“I’m not a kid. I’m seventeen.”
“The teen there proves you wrong.”
“Age of consent is sixteen.”
“Thanks for the info. If that’s why you brought me here…” He starts to sidestep me, but I stand in front of him and open my arms.
“I have something to say.”
“Not interested in hearing it.” His cold, dispassionate tone feels like a piece of glass wedging itself beneath my skin.
But I came this far. I can’t back down now.
“Just give me ten minutes.”
“No.”
“Five minutes. Just five.”
He looks at me for the first time, like really looks at me, instead of looking through me and categorizing me as invisible. His stare sears a hole through my heated skin and my breaths shatter and my lungs burn.
“The answer is no, Ava. Save yourself the hassle and go back to celebrate with kids your own age.”
I am not a kid.
Stop saying that I’m a kid.
Just stop it.
I lunge at him, ready to prove just how much I’m not a kid. His hard chest glues to mine as I grab his hair, run my fingers through it like I’ve always dreamed, and seal my lips to his.
My first kiss, which I always fantasized would be with him.
My first everything is his. Only his.
His lips taste of strong mint and a hint of alcohol. He tastes like my forever, the man who’ll make me forget I’m mentally damaged.
A fiery explosion starts where we connect and spreads all over my body, dipping to my stomach, shaking my fingers, lips—my entire being.
I can’t breathe, and for a fraction of a second, I don’t want to breathe.
At first, his lips don’t move, and I keep brushing my mouth against his, licking and stroking. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but I let instinct guide me.
Despite watching videos and practicing on inanimate objects, nothing could’ve prepared me for the pure intensity that is this moment.
His lips finally move, and I can safely die here and now.
The caress of his lower lip is harsh, unforgiving, and leaves me heaving for air, but then it suddenly changes.