Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” I said. “I don’t sleep much at night.”
“Always, or since the rape?”
“Since the rape,” I admitted. “I’m afraid he’ll come for me again.”
“Wish for it, Gealach. Because if he does, I’d find a way to kill him a hundred times over.”
I gave him a slight smile. He was still insufferable, but, as bizarre as it was, he felt safe. I hadn’t realized I was waking him up, though.
“If you want me to move back to my bedroo—”
He caught my wrists, stopping me from completing the sentence. “Forget about the other room. This is your new bed now.”
“Okay.”
“Anything I can do to make you less fucking jittery?”
“Well…”
I realized the only reason I could read his lips in near-complete darkness was because I found them the most fascinating thing on planet Earth. I wanted to draw them a thousand times over and ink them into my memory. To touch them. To…kiss them, even. Sometimes.
He was beautiful. And I had a feeling he found me attractive, too. I even found sick pleasure in realizing he dressed up Becky in my clothes to pretend she was me.
Tiernan gave me a quizzical look, still waiting for my words.
“I don’t know anything about you. Maybe if I did, it’d make sleeping in your bed not as weird.”
“What do you wanna know?” He turned to his nightstand, flicking the soft light on.
“Favorite food?”
“Beef jerky.”
“Favorite color?”
“Don’t have one.”
“You must have one,” I insisted. “Everyone has one.”
He studied my eyes in the dark for a beat, then finally said, “Blue.”
“When did you arrive in the United States?”
“Fourteen.”
“Have you been with anyone else since Becky?”
He curved an eyebrow, scanning me.
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
“Why?”
“Because if you’re not true to me, I won’t be true to you. And it doesn’t matter if you kill him after. I spent my entire life being overlooked and disrespected by my family. I won’t repeat the same mistake with you.”
“No.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “There’s been no one else.”
Relief flooded me.
“When did you lose your virginity?”
“Twelve,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“What?” I asked, smiling awkwardly. Surely, I misread his lips.
“Twelve,” he signed with his hands. “Although, it was hardly sex in its traditional form. I was forced to sodomize someone at gunpoint.”
I sat up straight with my back against the headboard, staring at him in shock.
“They wouldn’t let me stop until I came. Whoever came last had to drink the content of everyone’s condoms. I was so repulsed by the idea, I forced myself to do it. She bled all over my cock. But I managed.” He flashed me a cordial smile. “Still wanna know things about me, Gealach?”
I did, actually. More than ever before.
“Who did this to you?”
He gave me a wry look. “Next question.”
“Is this why you prefer anal sex?” I had time to Google what he did to Becky. Apparently, it was intentional.
“It’s the only thing I know.”
My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “Do you enjoy it?”
He contemplated the question. “I taught myself to disconnect my body from my mind when I do it. It’s a low-stake sexual interaction. For pleasure only. Plus, it’s a fuck you from me to the people who forced me to do it. I now do it because I choose to, not because I have a gun to my head.” He was silent for a moment. “It reminds me of who I am.”
“And who are you?”
“A filthy beast concealed under impeccable clothes.”
I considered his words, offering him a confession of mine in exchange. “I don’t remember much of the rape, but I do remember it hurt a lot. Not just the blows to my head and the punches to my body. The part where he entered me. It felt like he was ripping me to shreds.”
“Rape and sex are not the same thing, Lila. Sex can be great.”
“How do you know? You’ve never had that kind of sex.”
“I have my sources.”
I was starting to suspect he was telling the truth, but since he didn’t offer to have sex with me, I did not volunteer myself. I did file it in the back of my head that Mama was wrong about sharing a bed with a man. She said Papa stank of sweat and his slutty mistresses, and that he snored. But Tiernan only smelled of Tiernan—leather, musk, danger, dark woods—and even if he snored, I couldn’t hear it.
“What’s the nickname you call me?”
“Gealach.”
“Yes. What language is it in?”
“Irish Gaelic.”
“What does it mean?”
“Wiseass.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“I’m not very nice, Gealach.”
“What if the Bratva kill you?” I readjusted on the bed, not-so-accidentally brushing my arm against his warm skin. “Who will protect me then?”
“My brother, sister, and the Camorra.” He reached to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, staring at the golden strand with a faraway look on his face. “You’ll never be without protection. Your father won’t send all three of your brothers with me because he still needs a new don. And.” He grabbed another tendril, this time rubbing it between his fingers. “If I die, you’ll be a widower. Your pregnancy will still be legitimate. You’ll give birth, and down the line, can marry someone else without any stigma or prejudice.”