Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
"You look beautiful tonight, dulzura," I tell her, drinking her in. Even in the dim light, she's radiant. Fucking hell. I don't think anyone has ever stolen my breath the way she does. "But then, you always do."
"We shouldn't be out here, Nazario," she says.
"Naz."
"What?"
"Call me Naz, little one."
"We shouldn't be out here, Naz. People will talk."
"You're right." I release her hand, instantly missing the warmth of it against mine, and step closer. She doesn't back away, instead holding her ground as I invade her space. Good girl. "People will talk. They always do, little one. But I thought you could use an escape. You don't seem thrilled to be here."
"I'm not," she says frankly. "But we do what we must." Her gaze flits across my face. "I think you probably understand how that feels."
"I do." A little too fucking well most days.
"Why are you here?"
Because you're here.
"What did your brother say to you?" I ask instead of telling her that particular truth.
Her brows furrow with confusion. "What?"
"He upset you. What did he say?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Before I came over," I murmur, watching her face intently. "He whispered something to you that upset you. What was it?"
"How do you…" she trails off, her eyes locking on my face as understanding dawns. "You were watching me."
"Everyone in the ballroom was watching you, dulzura. It's impossible not to notice you. What did he say?"
"Just something thoughtless," she says dismissively. "He says a lot of thoughtless things trying to be funny, Naz."
"What was it this time?"
"That my dress would fit better if I hadn't taken so long picking out my stupid books yesterday," she mumbles, glancing away from me as her cheeks turn pink.
That fucking prick. Rage surges through me in a vicious black cloud. I want to wrap my hands around his throat and choke the breath from him. So slowly he feels every agonizing second.
She's clearly uncomfortable being here already, and he decided to make it worse, saying some bullshit like that? She deserves far better. The dress isn't a problem. Neither is she. She's a goddamn princesa making my cock hard just by existing.
Niall Sullivan's mouth is the totality of the fucking problem.
"The dress fits you like a dream, Brynna," I say softly, no hint of anger in my voice. That, I reserve for her brother. "You look like a true princesa. I haven't been able to take my eyes off you since I walked through the doors." I run my hand down her arm, fascinated by the way gooseflesh rises in response. "I haven't been able to keep you out of my head all day."
"What do you want from me, Nazario?" she asks, her voice steady despite the rapid rise and fall of her chest. I hear the hint of vulnerability in her voice, though. It's raw, an old wound she desperately doesn't want to expose to me.
"You know what I want."
"Right." Her lips compress into a thin, disapproving line. "A pawn to use against my father."
The way she says it leaves no doubt that she's been down that road before. How many times? How many men have tried to put their hands on her to get to her father? The thought makes me murderous. And maybe it makes me honest, too.
"I don't want a pawn, little one." I reach out again, trailing a fingertip along the line of her collarbone. My cock throbs at the contact. Fuck, the things I want to do to this girl. Would she let me if she knew? Would she beg for me to stuff my cock down her pretty little throat until her eyes watered? "I want you."
She shivers at my touch, taking a step away from me. "I'm not yours to take, Naz."
"Not yet," I agree, sliding my hand up to cup her cheek. "But you will be."
"No, I won't," she says. "Whatever is between you and my father is between you and my father. I won't be a pawn."
"I told you that I'm not interested in a pawn. I'm interested in you in my bed. You, wrapped around me." I brush my thumb over her bottom lip. "You, lost in pleasure so intense you can't breathe through it. I want to fuck you open and make you scream, Brynna."
Her lips part, a hot retort forming, but I silence her with my thumb on her bottom lip. "Don't fight it, dulzura. I see the way you look at me. I feel the way you tremble when I touch you. You want the same things I do."
She stares at me, conflict warring in her eyes. But I see the desire, the longing, the same hunger lashing at me. I see the fear and distrust, too. I don't think she fears me, though. She fears the consequences of putting her trust in me. She fears letting herself want me.