Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Fuck.
Hunter was already moving forward, his fingers grasping a fistful of her hair as he pulled her close for another kiss. When he lifted his head, her eyes were dazed with pleasure.
"Um...wow? I was just gone a few hours," Evelline said teasingly. "Did you miss me that much?"
“Always,” he answered, his voice rough with emotion that wasn’t entirely spent desire.
She rose on tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I need to go clean up. See you at dinner?”
He watched her walk away with a slightly unsteady gait that sent a surge of male pride through him.
"Hey, Eve, wait up..."
Fucking Braxton again...
His jaw clenched, and Hunter pulled his phone out from his back pocket. He knew he shouldn't do this, but his fingers seemed to move of their own accord as he typed a message to his cousin.
Tell me again what you saw between Eve and Matt eight years ago. I need to know everything.
His thumb hovered over the Send button. One press, and he’d be breaking his promise to Evelline in the most fundamental way. Doubting her. Again.
Delete it. Apologize to her. Trust her.
But instead he found himself doing the opposite.
He hit Send.
And immediately felt agonizing remorse.
Fuck.
Evelline deserved better than this, dammit.
He headed back to the main house, taking the stairs several steps at a time, not wanting to waste another moment. All he wanted was to admit what he had done and beg for her forgiveness. But when he knocked on her bedroom door, and she called for him to come in—
This was not fucking good.
Evelline looked nervous, her hands behind her back. "There's something I need to say..."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"I wanted to wait and plan. Make it this huge and special surprise," she added in a rush, "but all of a sudden, I just couldn't wait."
Wait for what, dammit?
Evelline brought her hands forward, revealing a small velvet box.
Was this some kind of parting gift before she broke up with him?
With slightly trembling fingers, she opened it to display a simple silver band.
“I got Matt to help me weld this thing since I don’t have money to buy an actual ring—”
Hunter stared at the ring, understanding crashing over him like a wave.
I'm an idiot.
All those secret meetings and the package Braxton had given her...
The world's biggest fucking idiot.
All of it had been for this—a handmade ring, crafted with Matt’s help.
But I don't have to let her know that, do I?
Hunter hauled her into his arms, his throat too tight for words.
“I haven’t asked you yet,” she protested, her voice muffled against his chest.
“You already know the answer to it.”
Evelline pulled back slightly, a smile wobbling up to her lips as she asked, “So it's a yes—"
"You damn well know it is."
"—to being my slave?"
"As long as we're married—" He meant every damn word. "I'll be whatever the hell you want."
"Oh, Hunter..."
She threw her arms around him again, Evelline rising to her toes so she could press her lips to his, the kiss made excruciatingly sweet by the salt of her tears.
How the hell do I tell her about what I've just done?
Chapter Seven
ELEVEN YEARS AGO...
She saw him first, standing at the bottom of the grand staircase, and it had ninteen-year-old Eve freezing in shock, completely unprepared as she was for the sight of her new stepbrother.
Their parents had just gotten married, and this was her first time at the Ferguson Ranch. Her first time meeting Boris’s son. Her first time feeling like someone had just punched her in the gut while simultaneously setting her entire body on fire.
Hunter Ferguson.
Twenty-seven years old. Six-foot-three of pure masculine perfection. Sharp jaw. Broad shoulders. Piercing silver-gray eyes that scanned her from head to toe with cold indifference.
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.
She was in trouble. Big, big trouble.
Her body’s reaction was instantaneous and terrifying. Heart racing. Skin tingling. Heat pooling low in her belly, spreading outward until even her fingertips felt warm.
I can’t like him. I CANNOT like him. He’s my stepbrother, for crying out loud!
“So you’re June’s daughter.” His voice was deep, the words clipped. Not a question but an assessment.
“And you’re Boris’s son.” She forced herself to sound bored, unimpressed. “I expected someone...taller.”
His jaw clenched, and foolish or not, Eve liked seeing that she could affect him this way.
Anything was better than indifference.
“You have lipstick on your teeth,” he replied coolly.
She didn’t. She knew she didn’t. But her tongue darted out to check anyway—
And that was when she saw it.
The smirk touching his lips, her arrogant stepbrother scoring a point, and her cheeks burned with a mixture of outrage and humiliation.
I hate him.
But I also want him.
And that left her with a choice to make.
Should she make him hate or want her back?
Easy, Eve thought.
Since she hated losing, of course she would decide to...drive her stepbrother absolutely crazy instead.