Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“I’ll be thirty-nine this summer.”
“Jesus…” I muttered.
“What? Does it bother you how old I am, princess?”
I studied him as I considered it, searching for signs of a man nearing forty. There were fine lines at the corners of his eyes, but no gray hair. Stubble shadowed his jaw most days, but it didn’t hide any deep wrinkles. When I looked at him, all I saw was a man—confident, grounded, someone who understood the world and refused to let it fuck with him or anyone he cared about.
Like he had for me downstairs.
The thought tripped me up. Because…did Lucian care about me?
He stalked closer, his presence crowding my space, making the question impossible to think about. I shook my head, forcing my focus back where it belonged. “No, not at all. I just didn’t realize the difference in our ages. And it’s not like I could judge since my dad was twice my mom’s age.”
He hummed, backing me up with each step, his piercing gaze scanning me up and down. “You still haven’t answered my questions. Have you and the rocker boy fucked before?”
Even as I retreated, I lifted my chin, summoning a regal air that suggested I was above his interrogation. “So what if I have?”
He halted, his eyes growing dark. “Well, then that would be rather rude.” My mouth snapped open, a retort ready to strike from my lips, but he spoke over me, his tone ice cold. “And unlike you, I haven’t been going around flirting with my previous conquests. Do I need to remind you of our agreement about not fucking other people while we’re together?”
“No,” I said, my jaw clenched tight. “I wasn’t going to fuck him, and we weren’t flirting.”
“You looked awfully cozy together,” he sneered—then his expression shifted. One corner of his mouth tipped into a slow, dangerous smile, his eyes catching with a devious glint that sent me retreating another step. He followed, matching my movement with his own step forward. “Or is that pretty pussy of yours so desperate for cock that you’re willing to play around up here regardless of anyone seeing?”
The image his words painted sent heat simmering up my neck into my cheeks. “Th-That’s not at all what was happening,” I stammered, packing every ounce of indignation I could muster into my tone, hoping it would mask the way my body betrayed me.
“Really?” he asked, taking another step.
“Yes,” I snapped. I looked behind me to gauge how much space I had before my back hit the wall. Only five more steps. Then I saw the open door to the ballroom and moved sideways, giving me more room to retreat.
Except he kept coming.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Are you looking for some stress relief, princess?”
“No.”
“Was my tongue not enough?”
“This is not the time for this.”
“Do you need more than my hand to fill your tight cunt?”
“Lucian!”
He delivered each question—each taunt—with a step forward.
Each response included a step back.
We passed through the door, onto the mezzanine in the other room. The hum of conversation and shining chandeliers faded into dim candlelight and clinking dinnerware as servers made the final preparations, unaware of the couple on the dark mezzanine above.
“Because I would be happy to oblige,” he murmured low and deep, full of promise. “All you had to do was ask.”
Then it happened. My back hit the wall, and he took the final step, pressing his hands flat on either side of my head, closing me in.
“I don’t need anything from you, and we don’t have time for this.” I meant for the words to sound strong, but his tall, broad body crowded over me and stole the air from my lungs, making the declaration lack any conviction.
His eyes darkened, and one hand gently collared my neck as the other slid down between my cleavage. “We have time for whatever I say we have time for, princess.”
“Lucian…” His fingers played at the lace edges along the deep V of my dress before slipping under to caress my nipple, pulling a sharp inhale from me.
I glanced past him, gauging if anyone could spot us up above, along the wall, but we stood too far back. The upper mezzanine in the dining room was blocked off and unlit. No one could see us unless they knew to look. Even then, they would only see two shadowy figures entwined.
“Besides, I think we need to make time for this—for you,” he said, his voice dark but softened around the edges. “You worked hard for tonight, and I don’t want you spending a single second carrying around anything that piece of shit said.”
Emotion clawed up my throat, and I forced it back down.
“Eyes on me,” he commanded, leaning in to drag his nose up my neck to my ear. “Color?”
My head spun, trying to reconcile this version of him—the one speaking with quiet care—with the furious man who’d followed me up here minutes ago. The tenderness and the temper blurred together, and I could barely keep up.