Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
His green eyes tracked a drop of sweat that rolled slowly down her throat. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Do you want me to go?”
A staying hand pressed to her knee. “You’re welcome to use the grotto as much as anyone else.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
His generous tone surprised her. “Do you share your house often?”
He met her stare. “What we share is conditional. Everything here is ours. Including you.” His gaze dropped to her breasts where that rolling drop had disappeared. “But you’re not to be shared.”
She looked at him in stunned confusion and he caught his slip.
“I mean, shared between anyone but us.”
The possessive words should have triggered her flight response. Instead, they sent molten heat pooling low in her belly like liquid fire. He been so distant the last time he visited her, or maybe that was just Stone. Precise. Calculated. Intentional.
“I’ll be sure to ask permission before assuming in the future.”
He frowned at her tone. “If there’s something you need, we’ll provide it.”
She scoffed. “Clothing would be nice.”
“Clothing isn’t necessary for your purpose here.”
Her molars locked. Her purpose. She wanted to punch him, though she’d probably only end up hurting her hand. As if sensing her urge, he smirked.
Her eyes narrowed. “You seem pleased with yourself.”
“I have no complaints at the moment.” He studied her for a long moment. “I was watching you again, this afternoon, as you explored.”
“I figured.”
“You tried every door but the front one.”
She stilled, feeling guilty for a rule she didn’t break and stupid for overlooking the most obvious escape from her captivity. “The storm—”
“Yes, snow can be quite treacherous for those not used to it, but that’s not my point. Most people would have tried to run by now.”
“Where would I go?”
“Exactly.” His smile was sharp as arctic wind.
He stood, ladling water over the stones with practiced ease. The hiss of steam filled the small space, making the air even more oppressive. As the room fogged, giving everything a dreamlike feel. Rather than return to the bench across from her, he settled onto the bench beside her.
“You don’t have to pretend with us.” His fingers traced the line of her collarbone, following the path of moisture down to where the dark sheet tucked between her breasts. “You don’t have to be perfect either.” He hooked his finger and tugged, loosening the fabric. “Don’t have to be polite. Don’t have to smile when you want to scream.”
“Why would I scream,” she whispered.
“Not all screams are borne of terror.” His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing across her lower lip with possessive gentleness. “Do you know what I enjoyed most about watching you last night?”
She shook her head as she stared into his emerald eyes.
“You weren’t performing. This afternoon, you were different.”
That was because she knew they were watching. They were always watching.
“I bet you’ve been performing your whole life. Playing a role someone else wrote for you.”
She blinked rapidly, wondering why he’d make such a statement. Was she really that transparent. “Until recently.”
“Ah,” he pulled the sheet open. “I’m guessing that’s when life changed. Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“How?” Dew gathered on her warm skin, gathering and trailing down her body in a slow race with gravity. He leaned closer, licking up a drop that gathered by her collarbone. “I’m very good at uncovering secrets, little rabbit. All kinds of secrets.”
As he leaned in to taste the salt on her fevered skin, his groan rumbled through her like distant thunder. He pressed her back to the warm cedar bench. Without invitation, he cupped her breasts in his large hands and kissed her.
It was nothing like Ash’s kiss. Stone kissed like he was claiming territory, marking what belonged to him with absolute certainty. His mouth devoured hers with demanding strokes of his tongue, unforgivingly challenging her until she found herself responding with equal hunger.
The sheet fell away, but she was beyond caring about modesty. Stone’s hands mapped her body with clinical precision, finding every sensitive spot and exploiting it ruthlessly. When she arched against him, gasping his name like a prayer, his laugh was dark with satisfaction.
“That’s it,” he murmured against her throat, his voice rough with desire and dominance. “Let go. Stop thinking. Just feel.”
He shifted to kneel on the planked floor as steam swirled around them. He pressed her knees open, burying his face between her legs.
One deep lick and he groaned with masculine satisfaction. “I knew you’d be sweet like honey.”
She gasped as his tongue darted into her, circling and teasing. Slick sweat coated her body as the heat made her dizzy. They were cocooned in a haze of swirling desire, so thick and drugging she stopped calculating consequences and surrendered to pure sensation.
Stone broke down her walls with methodical skill. Every gasp stole her senses. The heat of the small cedar room made it impossible to catch her breath. And the more she panted the less she could think—of reasons she should push him away, reasons why he was her enemy. It was as if the steam and his talented mouth were working together to put her under some sort of spell.