Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
"I know," he says, his tone marking a hint of remorse. "Henry has been ruining my life since we were born."
"You could've trusted me."
"He's a master manipulator," he says, holding his arm across the elevator door when it opens. "Just down there."
I follow the point of his hand, pausing outside of the room he indicates so he can unlock the door.
"He's impossible to catch. His work is flawless. He's better at what he does than I am," he explains as we step into the room. "It kills me to know that he's been places that I haven't been."
I turn to face him, my brows drawn together in confusion as he closes and flips the top latch on the door.
I understand his meaning when I see the lustful look in his eyes when he faces me.
"Robert," I whisper, wishing there was a way to delete someone from my past.
I had always wondered if my history with his brother was going to cause problems for us down the road, and although I hadn't noticed signs of it before, it's very clear now that he's bothered by it.
"We need to talk," I say holding my hand up.
"We need to reconnect," he says. "Don't you want that?"
"I do," I say, taking his hand when he offers it to me.
I've never felt guilt over my interactions with other men. I was a single female making adult decisions, and although I've had lackluster partners before, I've never really regretted my choices. Sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't. That's the luck of the draw.
I don't even know if I can hate what happened with Henry because it brought me to Robert, and as angry as I am, I still feel like there's a very real chance this man is my soulmate.
And that's why I don't fight him when he tugs my arm and situates my body face-first against the wall. He doesn't hesitate to press against me. The way he wants to reconnect is thick and very evident against my lower back.
"This is going to alleviate a lot of my anger," he whispers in my ear as his hands trail down my body.
Part of me wants to get away. We can always have sex, and honestly, I don't want our first time going all the way to be tainted with what he feels like he should've had first rather than me having experienced that with his brother.
But then his hands wander, his fingers trailing over my skin the second he pulls my blouse free from my slacks. It takes less than a handful of breaths before he's palming my right breast, praising me, and telling me how fucking perfect I am to him.
I get so lost in it, so lust-drunk and desperate to please him, that I ignore the alarm bells in my head. There will be plenty of time afterward to discuss how things need to look going forward for this to work out between the two of us.
"I hate that I was ever with him," I confess, leaning my head to the side to give him better access to the delicate skin on my throat.
I hiss when he nips at my shoulder, pain radiating from the bite.
"Robert," I snap, ready to push him away, but his hand slides down the front of my slacks, fingers deftly moving my panties away.
Need and arousal take over, and within a minute or two, I'm naked, my clothes discarded at our feet.
"On the bed," he growls in my ear, sending a rush of cold chills up my spine.
I slide past him and get on the bed, smiling at him when he stands at the end admiring my body. I want to preen under his attention, my mouth watering when he grips the front of his jeans, squeezing his erection as if he's having trouble not stripping naked and entering me for the first time.
Instead of working open the button and zipper on his jeans, he reaches into a bag already in the room and pulls out a strap.
"No," I say when he runs it through his hands. "I'm not into pain."
"This isn't going to hurt," he assures me as he reaches for my ankle. "I promise."
Believing him, I shove down the sense of wrongness threatening to bubble up and allow him to wrap the strap around my ankle.
He secures each ankle to some sort of mechanism at the foot of the bed, leaving me splayed open, fully on display. I cross my arms over my chest, unease building in my body to the point I shiver.
"What's that for?" I ask when he bends down and pulls out yet another strap.
"For your hands, of course," he says as he crawls up the bed, straddling my body.
"This isn't how I imagined our first time happening," I manage, hating how weak and scared my voice sounds.