Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
We’d agreed that it was best no one knew about my situation.
“I’m not sure,” Brock answered before I could think of something to say to brush it off. “But I am enjoying every moment. How have you been?”
“Oh, touring the world. Romancing beautiful women. The usual. Is that Teddy and his father over there?” he asked, looking past us toward the man standing beside a little person who was, objectively, a bit too young to be at the benefit. “Excuse me,” he said.
With that, he was gone.
“You know a surprising number of people here, considering you don’t live in the city,” I said when we were alone.
“I know Bellamy from our service days.”
“Bellamy was in the service?”
“Yes.”
“Bellamy?” I asked, incredulous.
“Hard to believe, but yes. What?” he asked, looking down at me with drawn-together brows.
Apparently, he could read me well.
Because I’d felt my stomach clench when I saw another familiar face. One with makeup that was just barely hiding some fresh bruises. Jenny. And her shitbag husband who had given those to her.
“Oh,” he said, following my gaze.
“She’s so isolated,” I said, feeling my heart break for her. “So cornered by his well-connected family.”
“All you can do is offer to help,” Brock said, his hand sliding a bit to squeeze my hip.
I had.
Several times.
Anytime I caught her alone in the bathroom at an event.
I couldn’t begin to understand the psychological damage that being so horrifically abused caused, but, clearly, her husband had beaten her down so much that she didn’t even realize she could rise again without him.
My heart always broke for her.
“Come on,” Brock said, leading me away from the crowd.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he led me out of the banquet hall.
But he didn’t answer me, just guided me down a hall, then another, before he opened a door and ushered me inside.
“How did you know this existed?” I asked, looking around the small space with its comfortable-looking couches and chairs. Some sort of private lounge that I didn’t know about.
“I was looking over the plans before we came, just in case I needed an exit strategy.”
“In case of uncomfortable social interactions?” I asked, frowning.
“In case of an attack,” he clarified as he lowered down onto one of the couches.
When his hand reached out, I figured he was just inviting me to sit too, to get off of my aching feet.
Then my hand was in his, and he was yanking hard, pulling me off my feet, and sending me crashing down.
Right onto his lap.
One look in his eyes after I’d landed told me everything I needed to know.
He wanted me right where he had me.
And we were done pretending that we didn’t want each other…
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Miranda
I was somehow aware of nothing—and everything—all at once.
The classical music gently carrying through the building. The way my heart was thumping against my ribcage. My breathing that went faster and more shallow as my chest seemed to get tighter and tighter with each passing second.
The strong legs under my thighs and ass.
The big hand still in mine.
The way his dark eyes were heavy-lidded and heated as I finally forced my gaze to find and hold his.
“All I could think of all night,” he said, his hand releasing mine so his fingers could glide up my arm instead, “was this. Getting you alone. Getting you to really look at me.”
“I’ve been looking at you,” I insisted.
“Not like this,” he said as his fingertips teased the crook of my elbow, making an unexpected shiver course through me. “Yeah, like that,” he said, voice going a bit deeper as I felt myself relaxing deeper into him even as his hand teased across my belly then up, his forearm brushing my breast as he continued his path upward.
Over my arm.
My shoulder.
Up the column of my neck.
His thumb traced my jaw from my ear to my chin.
Then up.
Sliding across my lower lip.
They parted like an invitation.
One he was all too pleased to receive.
One moment, he was sitting back and watching himself explore.
The next, my head was against the armrest and his body was half folded over mine.
I got one moment to enjoy the heat in his eyes before his lips were suddenly on mine.
Hard.
Hungry.
I swear every inch of me ignited at the contact.
The heat scorched through me, leaving ashes and ruins in its wake as my lips started to respond to his. Taking, giving, yet always demanding more.
Brock’s responded to the call, deepening the kiss, nipping my lower lip, tracing the seam with his tongue, then moving inside to claim mine.
A low, throaty moan escaped me then as need hummed through my system, making me feel overly sensitive.
Suddenly, my dress felt like it was suffocating me, and the material felt like it scraped across my skin.
Brock’s lips ripped from mine, tracing a path over my jaw, teasing the shell of my ear, then sliding down my neck.