Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
But seeing Jin like this, he longed to run his fingers through that hair. To know if it would feel like cool, bunched satin in his hands.
Insane!
He was losing his mind.
This job needed to get done right now.
Jin drew in a deep breath and rolled onto his back. His legs shifted and the blanket slipped lower, revealing a bare chest and flawless pale skin kissed by moonlight.
Shit. Yep. Time to act.
No more creepy staring.
He crossed the room to stand at Jin’s bedside closest to where he was lying, making enough noise to penetrate the prince’s sleep. The man’s breathing changed as he woke, his body freezing as his tired brain tried to sort through what his senses were shouting at him. After a couple of seconds, Jin’s hand reached out toward the lamp, but West caught his wrist and pinned his arm down to the pillow. Just as he sucked in a breath to shout, West covered his mouth with his other hand, holding him trapped.
“Stop struggling,” he growled, ignoring the feel of those plush lips on his palm. “We need to talk.”
Jin stopped moving, and West wondered if he recognized his voice.
God, did this man still trust him?
He was standing in his fucking bedroom at two in the morning.
“I’m going to turn on the light. Don’t move.” West continued to hold him for another moment before he released Jin’s wrist and flipped on the bedside lamp.
They both squinted against the bright intrusion, but West could tell the moment that Jin recognized him. Those dark eyes snapped wide and his lips moved on his hand, probably saying his fake name.
“No shouting, okay?” West confirmed in a rough whisper. Jin nodded.
West removed his hand and retreated a few steps. It was easier to breathe if they weren’t so close. The prince snatched his blankets, pulling them to his throat as he sat up in bed against his pillows.
“What are you doing in here?” Jin demanded in a soft voice as if he were a child trying not to wake his parents in the next room.
“Someone is trying to kill you.”
Jin blinked at him, and a rueful smile slid across his lips. “Clearly it’s not you, since you could have killed me and been gone already.”
“This isn’t a joke, Dianxia,” West snapped, fighting to keep his voice down. “A man took a shot at you in the park today. If I had been half a second slower, you’d be dead right now. There’s at least one more assassin lurking about Jin, looking for an opportunity to kill you, and more will pop up soon. Someone has put a contract out on your head.”
Jin’s gaze unfocused and dropped to the mattress in front of him. Lost in thought, he lowered the blankets to his lap. As he moved his head, a long lock of hair spilled across his shoulder to partially cover his chest and West longed to reach out and sweep it back again. But he didn’t move.
No, Jin’s next words left him frozen.
“This is all happening so fast. Faster than I’d expected,” he mumbled, seeming to talk to himself.
“What are you talking about? Do you know who wants you dead? I can help you get rid of this contract if you tell me what’s going on.”
Well, it was likely that he was going to need a lot of help from at least Kairo and possibly even Alexei and Marilyn when it came to getting rid of the contract, but no one could hurt this sweet man. The world needed Jin Long Wei in it.
“No, I…no.” Jin shook his head. As if realizing his blanket had drifted down, he jerked it up to his chin and glared at West. “Mr. West, do you mind leaving now? I appreciate the information you’ve given me, but I need to get out of bed and prepare some things. I can’t do that without first fetching my robe and some pants.”
“No.” The single word came out cold and flat.
Jin’s head jerked as if he couldn’t believe West had refused to obey his wishes. Well, West had news for him. He would not obey any wishes until he was damn sure Jin was protected.
“What?”
“No. I need to know that you’re taking this seriously.”
“This isn’t the business of an American reporter—”
“I’m not a reporter, and my name isn’t John West.” As Jin stared up at him, his mouth hanging open in silent shock, he closed the distance between them. Placing one hand on the headboard of the bed just above Jin, he leaned in close. “I’m a mercenary who stumbled across this hinky contract on your head and came to make sure a good man isn’t about to be killed for a bad reason. My name is Westin St. James, and I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.”