Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
He pushes my dress up over my body, slowly sliding it over my head until I’m in nothing but a strapless bra and panties. My stomach dips as he grazes my hip bone, dragging his teeth over the curve before he bites down.
I never thought someone could get turned on by the size of one’s skeletal mass, but he seems to be obsessed with mine. It’s bizarre, but strangely addictive.
“Are you a serial killer?” I tease.
“Define serial.” He peppers my abdomen with soft kisses, all the way up to my rib cage, which he studies with more of his fingers and teeth.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.” I shiver.
“What if I said yes?” He peels down the cup of my bra and licks my nipple, making me arch into him like he didn’t just admit he’s unhinged. “Do you want the version of me that lets you sleep at night, or do you just want to know you’re the exception?”
My throat works as I contemplate it. The truth is, almost every man I know could be considered a serial killer. They’ve all killed, multiple times at least. It’s normal in my world, so it’s not that I’m afraid for that reason.
“I want to know I’m the exception,” I admit.
There’s a moment of hesitation from him that should probably terrify me, but if I’m the prey in this scenario, maybe this is my fawn response.
“You’re always the exception, Gabriela.” He smooths my bra back into place and shifts his weight so his lips are only a breath from mine. “I never want to hurt you. That’s why I gave you the knife.”
“So I feel safe with you?” I swallow.
“So you can use it if you need to.”
There’s something about the tension in his voice that makes me feel like it’s not just an assurance, but rather, a failsafe. Before I can think of anything to say in response, he pulls away, leaving me disoriented as he starts to dress me.
I keep my eyes closed, my mind wandering between the dualities of this situation. Sometimes, it still feels like he’s warning me away from him. But when he takes care of me like this, I can’t even fathom the possibility that he’d be capable of hurting me.
It confuses me, and quite honestly, I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to let him push me away, and I’m not sure what that says about me.
He finishes dressing me and slips on my socks and sneakers before he moves, and I hear the lamp switch off.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Darkness surrounds us as he returns to me and wordlessly lifts me into his arms.
He carries me out of the lounge and down the dark hallway, into the stairwell, before we exit on the parking garage level. It isn’t until we’re in that space that I finally get a glimpse of him, and I realize he’s wearing a motorcycle helmet.
I can’t see his face, arms, hands, or even his neck, which is now covered in a gator. It makes me wonder if it’s intentional, or if it’s a logical choice for whatever he’s about to do next.
His boots echo off the floor, and the space is so empty, I can only assume that Riccardo and his investors left. In any case, Eros doesn’t seem to be concerned about the possibility of running into them.
He stops and sets me on my feet beside a sport bike.
It’s matte black, with the Ducati logo printed across the tank. The back seat is so small, I’m certain Eros underestimates how wildly uncoordinated I am.
I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up a finger and grabs another helmet from the back.
He helps me put it on and adjusts the chin strap before he presses a button on the side. After a few moments, the speaker hums, and his voice startles me.
“Can you hear me?”
I nod before I realize he can probably hear me, too.
“Yes, but I’m not sure I can do this. What if I fall off?”
“I won’t let you fall.”
There’s so much certainty in his voice, it gives me the reassurance I need.
He swings his leg over the seat and settles on the bike, steadying it with both feet before he starts it. It rumbles to life, vibrations carrying through the floor as he glances at me and pats the seat behind him.
“Come here. I’ll help you.”
I move toward him, and he guides me onto the bike, using his body to steady me.
It feels strange, sitting higher behind him, and the seat is so small, I slide right into him.
Even in the cool air, his body is warm, and when he guides my hands around him, my head naturally settles against his back.
“All good, little shark?”
“All good,” I reply with far more confidence than I feel.