Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Sophie is intensely more aware of me in this room than the others.
Smart girl.
“Um, maybe you could look over there,” she says, gesturing to a spot farthest away from her in this small room.
I smirk. “I haven’t helped you up to this point. What makes you think I’ll start now?”
She glances over at the bed. On top of the animal skin is a sword. Just a prop, like the axe, but she picks it up anyway. She eyes me wordlessly, then inspects the long blade. “It’s quite nice. The Viking who owns this place must have a trust fund, too,” she says somberly.
A laugh bursts out of me, and she smiles.
I take a step toward her, and much to my pleasure, she takes an answering step back. All her response does is fuel my interest in chasing her, so I step closer until the wall is at her back.
She holds the sword between us as if it’s a real weapon, but when I grip the hilt and give her a light shove, she’s too startled to react, and I get it from her easily.
She tenses at the noise as I drop the prop on the floor and close the distance between us.
She wants to keep backing away, but there’s nowhere for her to go. This room is the same size as the others, but since there’s a full-size bed in it, the space is much tighter.
Unless she wants to get on the bed, she doesn’t have much room to get around, and obviously, she doesn’t want that.
“Um, we need to look for the key,” she says, a transparent and useless attempt to dissuade me, but damn, do I enjoy the way she tries to maneuver around me.
“What do I need a key for?” I ask her. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
She stares up at me. I see her throat work as she swallows hard.
I’m invading her personal space in a big way, but she doesn’t bother pointing it out. She knows I’m well aware of what I’m doing.
Her breath catches when I reach out and run the edge of my finger along her jawline in a feather-light caress. Her eyelids droop, but she keeps her eyes open valiantly as if that act alone might be able to stop me.
She’s wrong. I very much enjoy the tremulous look in her pretty different-colored eyes as she gazes up at me, her eyes glinting with accusations her mouth can’t seem to release.
It’s dickish to do this to her, especially after the story she just told me.
In truth, I’m no better than the asshole who came before me. Just a better kisser, apparently.
Her body tenses when I grip the side of her face, simultaneously moving in so my body cages hers against the wall.
“Silvan,” she whispers.
I keep my touch gentle and almost reassuring even as I ignore her desire for me to stop. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I tell her.
“But you will anyway,” she says resentfully.
I lean in, brushing my lips against the corner of her mouth. “Only if you make me.”
“That’s not fair,” she whispers.
“I know,” I murmur with false sympathy, my other hand sliding down to grip her hip. “Should we move this dance to the bed?”
Looking away from me, she says, “I want to leave.”
My lips tug up. “Then you’d better find the key.”
She lets me grab her arm and haul her over to the bed, but as soon as we get to it, she has second thoughts and turns around. “Wait,” she says, reaching up and caressing my jaw with her soft hand.
The sensation sends a jolt of electricity straight through my core. I grab her hand, pressing it closer. “If your intention is to make me want you less, touching me is probably the wrong tack.”
“I just… I don’t understand. We’re strangers. What’s the point in getting to know me and acting like you like me if all you want is… this?”
“Who said this was all I wanted?” The words tumble out of my mouth from a place I don’t even fully understand. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to this girl, I only know I am. The notion of never seeing her again after this feels absurd.
I want more nights just like this one, and while I realize fucking her when she doesn’t really want me to isn’t the best way to accomplish that, I’m not enough of a fan of anticipation to deny myself the pleasure.
I also have a sense that even if I did wait, as tentative as my Sophie is, I’d be waiting forever.
No, I have to be the one to set the pace. Hers won’t work for me. It can’t be working for her, either, unless she wants to die a virgin.
Is she a virgin?
She never said she was, only that the scumbag who pretended to be her friend to get in her pants hadn’t fully raped her.