Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Blood-soaked satin and vacant eyes.
I shake my head and will the nightmare to be purged from my goddamn brain.
I shut the door and feel my entire body slump in relief. I’m mad at myself for getting so worked up, for letting stupid dreams rob me of my peace. If I feel this way about harm coming to her now, how will I ever survive if I develop feelings for her? I can’t let myself fall for her. It’s too damn dangerous.
I stand beside her and watch her. Her hands are folded under her cheek, her honey-blonde hair askew on her pillow. The blankets and sheets are wrapped around her body.
The early morning hours, before dawn turns into day, somehow feel intimate and sacred. Outside the window, the soft glow of moonlight is nature’s nightlight, a full moon casting shadows that dance across the walls and the form of the sleeping beauty. Even the muted sounds of the waning night outside her window feel weighted and sensual.
I move closer to her. She doesn’t move.
I shake her shoulder then step back. “Wake up, Harper.”
She startles awake and quickly pulls the covers up higher. She seems confused for a moment, as if trying to decipher reality from dreams.
Makes two of us.
“What are you doing in here?”
“You shouldn’t be sleeping so hard. What if I was a predator?” I’m angry she let me get this close without realizing I was here.
Narrowing her eyes at me, she pushes right back. Her voice is still raspy with sleep. “If you made it this far as a predator, I’d say your security team’s shit and you need to hire better security.”
She has a point.
My heartbeat slows. The warmth that rose in my chest begins to dissipate.
We stare at each other in silence. Her gaze roams down the length of my body. I’m still wearing the boxers I slept in and nothing else. She licks her lips and tucks the covers around herself more tightly.
“What are you wearing?” My voice is husky. Affected. My breathing shallows.
It’s quiet in here but I can still hardly hear her voice. “Aleks.”
“You’ll be my wife in a matter of hours. I want to know what you’re wearing.”
The air between us feels charged, thick with the weight of unexpected desire and our impending vows.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says, her gaze holding mine as she slowly relaxes her grip on her blankets. “Just a little set of pjs.”
Just a little set indeed. I bet it barely covers her nipples and ass.
I can’t wait to see what she looks like pinned beneath the weight of my body. Her mouth parted or, better yet — filled with my cock.
I can’t wait to see her eyes go soft and her body meld to mine when she comes.
I can’t wait to see her on her knees. Wearing nothing but my wedding ring.
I may not love this woman, but I’ll enjoy every fucking possible second with her tight little body. Schooling those pouty little lips. Making her beg.
“What did you want, Aleks?” Her voice is still barely above a whisper. A flicker of panic flits across her gaze when I draw near.
I don’t know what I want. We’re too close, the room too intimate as the sky begins to faintly glow.
“Show me.”
The panic spreads across her face, as if she’s on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.
“Show you what?” she asks in a strangled voice.
“Show me what you’re wearing. Or better yet, what you’re not.”
God, I’m an asshole. I know she’s supposed to remain untouched. I know I’m not supposed to see her, even fully clothed, right now, much less dressed in almost nothing. But I want to see her. I want to take a closer look, when it’s just the two of us.
For some reason, I want to tell her she’s safe, that she can trust me. I’m torn between the need to make her understand who I am and the need to make sure she knows I’m not going to hurt her.
I will, though. It’s inevitable.
She hesitates for long seconds then finally, with a trembling hand, begins to push the bedclothes down.
“Just some pjs your sister brought me.” She’s rallied, delivering those words in that sassy-as-fuck tone of voice.
“Show me,” I repeat. My words are a barely civilized half growl.
With a flourish, she tosses the blankets aside.
“Fuccck.”
She’s wearing nothing but a tiny pair of satin white pj shorts with a little, pale-pink bow centered at her navel, and a dainty, short-sleeved tee that covers her but barely, clinging to her curves like sin.
“Look,” she says in a voice that tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing. “It even says Bride across the ass. Just in case you forget who I am and need a label.”
I’ve had it with the sassy little brat. “Oh yeah? Let’s see.”