Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
He wraps a strong arm around my waist and gently moves me backward, under the spray of water again and fingers through my hair to rinse it.
Then we step out of the spray, and he applies the conditioner.
“More,” I murmur because it’s not enough. He adds more. My hair is a tangled mess, so I help him work it through to the ends. “Wait,” I tell him when he tries to move me under the water again. “It takes a few minutes.”
He grunts and picks up a bar of soap, which he rolls around in his palms. The slow lathering he gives me starts at my shoulders and travels down to each fingertip. Then down my back, up my belly to clean my breasts. He kneels on the tile to wash my legs down to my toes, then stands and gives my ass a great deal of attention. Around my buttocks. Between them. Down between my legs. He stands behind me and strokes my lady parts as his other hand kneads my breast.
“Okay,” I whisper, not because I want him to stop, but because the water is starting to get cold.
I step under the shower and rinse off, and he joins me, stroking my long hair, smoothing his palms over my wet skin.
When the water goes cold, he shuts it off, and I turn to face him.
“You think I’m pretty,” I say when his lids droop, gazing at me. I’m fishing for a compliment or confirmation of what I think is true. Being needy, as usual.
“Of course–you’re beautiful.” He cradles the back of my head and draws me right up against him, lifting my face to his. His lips hover over mine, soft and sensual, a contrast to the angular lines of his face. “Beauty isn’t your power. It’s not this hot little body.”
I want him to stop. I don’t like it. I wanted to hear what I wanted to hear. This wasn’t it.
He touches my heart. “This is your power.” And then he kisses me.
It’s our first kiss, and it’s a searing one. I loop my arms around his neck, lifting up on my toes to deepen it.
He catches my ass with his free hand, pulling me even tighter as his tongue sweeps between my lips.
I’m frantic in this kiss, craving it like I need my next breath. I twine my tongue around his, change angles, surge against him.
What did he mean was my power? My heart? My essence?
I’m confused by it, but I don’t mind. Maybe I thought there would be a criticism that would hurt me. Like when Delaney asks me if there’s meaning to my life beyond sex. But she has helped me seek satisfaction in other places like pottery.
“Do I seem like I need saving?” I pull away and ask. I’m breathless from the kiss, but I have to know. Does he see me as weak? Broken?
“Do I?” he asks me back.
I blink at him, bringing my fingers to his handsome face.
Yes. I don’t say it out loud. Yes, he needs saving from my father. From himself. And I’m going to do it.
I’ll be his savior.
He can be mine.
Because as much as I hate to admit it. As much as Delaney’s been trying to get me to see that I don’t need a savior or someone to take care of me or boss me around, that’s exactly what I want.
I want a man who ties me up and feeds me like his pet. Who both washes my hair and pulls it. Who wipes my tears even when he’s the guy who makes me cry.
Maybe I’m deranged, but it’s my kink. And Adrian fits the mold so perfectly it hurts.
And of course, I like the hurt.
“I’m ready,” I murmur to him.
His brows knit. “Ready for what?”
“Ready for you to do depraved things to me.”
His lips twitch, and he tweaks one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He drops his gaze to his cock, which is hard and stiff between us. “Good. I’m ready, too.”
7
Nadia
I work to calm my breath as we approach Rue’s Lounge, the pub where Flynn and Story’s band plays on Thursday nights.
Crowds aren’t my thing. I avoid going places where someone might accidentally touch me. The worst, though, are nighttime crowds in places where people are drinking. Because the chances of getting touched skyrocket.
But I rode over with Maykl, the doorman at the Kremlin. He’ll protect me from unwanted attention. He looks about as fierce as Oleg, Story’s giant mute boyfriend with bulging muscles and crude tattoos covering his arms.
I know Adrian tasked him with keeping an eye on me while he’s gone, and he’s done a good job. I also know Adrian probably threatened to cut his balls off if he touched me. He doesn’t even look me in the eye.