Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I need to stop whatever’s coming. I need to jump up and move far away from him.
I don’t.
Soft fingers begin to trail up my thigh, moving painstakingly slowly. The feeling is sensual. He continues his trek up my leg until he reaches the apex of my thighs, tracing the lace of my thong.
I can’t help but quiver at his touch. It feels so good. Too right.
A primal moan escapes my mouth as I arch my body toward the friction I need.
In my brain, it’s not him. I work to replace him with someone—anyone—else.
I can pretend and enjoy this moment for what it is.
A much-needed release. One I’ve deprived myself of for too long.
If I open my eyes, the mirage will fade, and I’ll have to acknowledge that I hate this man, yet my body craves him.
My hips lift of their own accord, begging for him to touch me…begging for him to sear me with his fingers.
My body throbs with need, and he knows it. His hand works against me, eliciting sounds I didn’t know I could make.
I’m desperate for the friction of his touch to bring me over the edge.
Need and desperation fill me to the point of madness.
I push my hips up, wiggling my body, indicating for him to give me more. He doesn’t disappoint. His finger pushes aside my panties and finds me hot and ready.
“Please,” I beg, sounding needy and desperate.
“Please what, firefly?” His husky voice only makes things worse.
It’s so hot. So damn sexy.
My orgasm is building. I’m on the edge of falling.
A throat clears loudly, and my eyes open. That’s when it all comes crashing down.
Gideon is standing in the doorway to the closet.
It was a dream.
And he had a front-row seat.
His tall, lean body, only a few feet away, doesn’t help.
I woke too soon and subsequently missed out on release.
My hand reaches up, and I scrub the sleep from my eyes, trying to pretend nothing happened.
That what he thinks he saw isn’t true. It’s clear he believes he walked in on something because he’s smiling like a damn clown.
“Good dream, firefly?” he asks with that smug face of his.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Only nightmares here. But I didn’t dream, so…”
“Right.” He bites his lower lip to likely stop his laughter from bubbling over.
Asshat.
“Coffee?” he asks, lifting his hand.
With my dream long gone, I finally notice that Gideon is holding a mug of coffee in his hand. The fragrance fills the closet, and I groan in response. It’s an inviting scent of roasted beans and sugar.
Gideon takes a step and reaches the mug out while I move into a sitting position, arms outstretched, like a kid in a candy store waiting for the cashier to hand over the bag of treats.
He holds it just out of reach, earning him a scowl. Lesson number one: do not withhold coffee from me. I will snap. Gideon chuckles but finally gives in, closing the distance so I can grab the porcelain and bring it up to my mouth. The rich flavor is both bold and smooth, awakening my senses as it slides down my throat.
I moan, savoring the taste. It’s prepared exactly the way I drink it.
“How?” The word comes out sharp and full of accusation.
He advances, and I scoot back on my butt. When Gideon is hovering over me, his eyes dark and unreadable, he speaks. “I did some research,” he continues in a low voice. “I needed to know what made you tick.”
“And coffee was the answer?” I lift one eyebrow in response.
“No,” he replies, his eyes narrowing. “But it was something that I could use to my advantage.”
He moves closer. His eyes flick over my body, and a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. “I know you can’t function without it,” he responds, as if he can read my thoughts.
“How would you know that, Gideon?” He shrugs, and my eyes narrow. “Have you been watching me?” My voice hitches, knowing full well that the smoke detector in my old room is most likely a camera, but it’s one thing to think it and another to confirm it.
The thought of this man, or any, for that matter, watching me in my own home is terrifying. What else could he have seen?
Everything.
“I have.” He doesn’t even pretend to care that he invaded my privacy in the worst way.
“Explain,” I demand, placing the mug of coffee on a shelf next to my makeshift bed.
“I wasn’t sure if I was going to keep my word to Roman. I didn’t even know you existed, so I had to learn about you.”
“Why?” I snap.
“To ensure you were even real. He was dying. I didn’t know if he was just talking nonsense. Like I said, I didn’t know he had a sister.” He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it in a way that only heightens his allure. “I found you and realized he’d kept even more secrets from me.”