Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“Get naked and bath yourself. You’re dirty.” His eyes roam me. “I can smell other men on you.”
“I’d rather have a bath with a toaster turned on than one with you.”
“Strip.”
“I’m not fucking you or having a bath with you.”
“Strip,” he repeats.
I huff out a breath and place my hand on my dress strap, letting it drop, then do the same with the other. While I shimmy it down my body, my hair tickles my back, until I’m standing in front of him in nothing but the strap on my leg that holds the knife I cut him with. I’m sure his blood is still on the blade. I go to remove it, but he speaks.
“Leave it.” I let my arms hang at my sides as I stand there, naked and unashamed. I’m not shy about my body. I was a dancer all through school, so I have toned legs and a great ass. My tits aren’t very large, but they’re flattering on my smaller frame.
“I’m not fucking you,” I say again.
He waves his hand in a circle.
“Turn.”
I do, slowly, trying to keep him in my sights the whole time. For all I know, the minute my eyes are off him, he’ll put a bullet in the back of my head.
But once my back is to him, he speaks again, “Stop.”
I do and look over my shoulder. His eyes have darkened, and his hands are clenched.
“Bend over and touch your toes.” His voice stays the same, with no change in his tone. Like this is the kind of request he makes everyday.
“We aren’t doing Ring Around the Rosie,” I say snarkily. He shuts me up from saying any more with a sharp glare.
“Bend,” he commands, angrier now.
“So fucking bossy,” I mutter to myself and do as he asks. Granted, I’ve been asked for worse. I once had a guy pay me five thousand to shit on his chest. Do you know how hard it is to force a shit with someone watching you?
It’s fucked.
Bending over is a walk in the park.
Until him.
Because for some reason, he makes me feel even more naked than I am, and that’s not possible. Considering I am butt-ass naked.
“Stand.” I do as he says. He indicates with a finger for me to come to him. When I reach him, he looks up at me again. “Turn.” Again, I follow his instruction. Fucking hell, what game is he playing? “Stop.” My ass is more than likely in his face. “Now, bend.” If I do, my ass will literally be in his face, no doubt about that at all.
“Are you serious?” I ask, not quite shocked but completely bewildered.
“Did you come into my establishment and cut me?” he barks.
“Yes.”
“Now, bend.” I relent and do as he says, then a second of silence later, I feel him right there. At my entrance. But he doesn’t touch me, just breathes me in.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
And why does it turn me on?
He takes his time, and when I feel him pull away, I stand and turn around to face him.
“You can leave now.” I’m impressed that my voice doesn’t come out shaky at my demand.
Lucas stands before I can even think to move, and he grabs me by my throat, looking me in the eyes. My breathing picks up and I feel my heart start racing in my chest—I like his hands on me. I hate his hands on me. His other hand comes down on my thigh, stopping me from grabbing my knife, and he whispers against my mouth, “It’s a dangerous thing to play with the viper.” He runs his tongue along my lips and it’s not a kiss, more of a taste, my breath hitching at the sensation. “Once we have a taste, we become addicted to the poison. And then, there is no escape.” I close my eyes at his touch, and when his lips leave mine, he pulls back and stares at me. “You like it. You’re just as fucked-up as I am.”
Then he turns and walks out the door, leaving me standing there, naked and wondering what the fuck just happened. And why I didn’t hate it.
As they walk in the door, I manage to pull my dress down. Brody shakes his head as he looks me over and Merci just locks eyes with me.
“What did he make you do?” she asks, her arms crossing over her chest.
Fuck that! I don’t want to tell her. How would I even begin to do that? I mean, I’ve told her everything I do for clients, including the down-right dirty shit, but somehow this feels…different.
“Don’t worry.”
Her eyes pinch and she looks to Brody.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Brody says, lifting his hand and rubbing the back of his head. I forget that he’s almost a grown man. When I look back to Merci, I see her biting her lip.