Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
From the moment she’d stepped foot in this suite, it had become her gilded cage. And Nash? Her keeper. He came and went at all hours, offering no explanation about where he’d been or what progress he’d made in finding their escape. Most days, he barely spoke to her. Rarely touched her. Without that contact, she felt lost.
Last night before the movie, his phone had buzzed twice. Both times he’d stepped away, speaking in carefully generic responses. Afterward, he’d offered no information. He had simply plopped on the sofa beside her and tuned her out. This morning, she’d woken up alone.
Something had to give.
The operative who swore he’d come to save her no longer felt like the man she’d fallen for, but a stranger. Nash Scott had always been tenderly dominant and unflinchingly protective. Jasper King was cold and calculating, keeping her in the dark while he played spy games. She understood the need for secrecy, for caution. But why shut her out completely? Why not treat her like a partner instead of a pretty object he’d bought for an ungodly price?
She wanted to believe it was all an act, that somewhere beneath Jasper King’s ruthless facade, the Nash she’d fallen for still existed. But with each passing hour, her hope dimmed. Had she ever really known him? Or was she now seeing his true face—the covert operative who moved through the seedy world of danger and sin with shocking ease?
The decisive click of the suite’s door interrupted her brooding thoughts.
She whirled to find Nash standing in the portal, his massive frame blocking the light from the hall. From his stance and the set of his shoulders, she knew instantly that something had changed. His eyes were unusually cold. Predatory.
Her breath caught.
This wasn’t Nash, but Jasper King—the man who relished owning her, body and soul.
Wordlessly, he locked the door with deliberate slowness, the metallic clink highlighting the fact she was his cornered rabbit. Her heart slammed into her ribs.
“Strip.” His dark voice sounded like the crack of a whip.
“W-what?”
“Now. I won’t repeat myself.”
Haisley froze, clutching her book to her chest like a shield.
With a muttered curse, he crossed the room in long strides and seized her wrist, yanking her to her feet. The book clattered to the floor, splitting the spine. Pages scattered like the feathers of a broken wing.
His grip wasn’t painful, but it brooked no argument as he dragged her to the bed. The luxurious mattress that had cradled their uneasy sleep now loomed like an altar of sacrifice.
“Wait! What—”
“No.” He ripped her silk robe away, leaving her clad in nothing but the whisper-thin nightgown beneath.
Cool air raked her skin. Goose bumps erupted. Apprehension surged.
“But—”
“Enough! It’s been pointed out to me that you may have perceived my patience as weakness. Or assumed that I care about your feelings. My goal was to break you slowly, but I see that I’ve been far too easy. That ends now.”
Horror dawned as his meaning became clear. Someone had gotten in his grill. They were probably being watched right now. Tonight was another show—and it probably wouldn’t be their last. But why hadn’t he found some way to explain? Or give her a sign? Weren’t they supposed to be in this together?
And why didn’t it seem difficult at all for him to treat her like a stranger he intended to use for his pleasure?
Her mind raced with possibilities as he stripped down to his underwear and followed her to the bed. He covered her body with his own and tugged up the sheet. She didn’t even have a moment to be grateful for the privacy before his hands were all over her, roughly stripping her bare and tossing her gossamer nightgown aside.
Haisley scrambled to shove his hands away and cover herself. He pinned her wrists above her head, his fingers spanning both her delicate bones easily as he scowled. “Don’t fight me.”
Knowing there were eyes on them, she tried to tamp down her terror and play along. After all, discovery and death would be far worse than whatever he had planned. But none of that stopped her very real fear.
The sheet tangled around them as Nash grabbed her thighs. “Spread your legs.”
Automatically, she resisted. “No.”
“I warned you,” he growled as he yanked her thighs apart, settled in between, and pressed her into the mattress.
His body was familiar—the same planes and muscles she’d memorized long ago. The weight of him, usually comforting, surrounded her. Enclosed her. Encaged her. She felt trapped. Everything inside her screamed.
“Please…” she whimpered before she could stop herself. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Was he really going to do this?
Then he dragged his lips up her neck. Haisley’s head spun, tilting between shock and a spark of desire.
He shoved his underwear down to his hips. She tensed. But instead of penetrating her, he wriggled against her until the ridge of his cock found her clit. Then he rocked against her, slowly, rhythmically. To anyone watching, it must look as if he was taking her, maybe even hurting her. He wasn’t. His grip remained firm, but he merely used her body to create an illusion.