Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
"That little motherfucker," I snarl, my hands clenching. I swear to Christ, the only thing that keeps him breathing is the fact that I know there are photos out there of Sophie slapping the taste out of his ignorant mouth. Knowing she humiliated him on stage and the whole world saw it helps me sleep better at night. It really does.
"I wasn't even hurt," she says, her voice soft. "And that's a problem, Harlan. I shouldn't be so used to the vitriol and abuse that it feels normal. I shouldn't feel like I do every time I walk through the doors there—like there is no joy in dancing anymore because I'm just waiting for the next thing they're going to say to me, and then the next thing." She takes a breath. "I want to feel like I did this weekend, with you. That's how I'm supposed to feel. I forgot that, you know."
"Jesus."
"You reminded me that I'm supposed to be happy, not just surviving. So… I quit," she whispers.
I take a moment to process, afraid to say the wrong thing. But I'm equally as afraid to say nothing, not about something this monumental. Dancing is her life—it's been her whole life since she was a little girl. She isn't ready to give that up. I know she isn't, especially not because of a little prick like Greg.
"You were born to dance, baby," I finally murmur. "You can't walk away from that. You'll regret it forever."
"I know," she says. "But you told me that I opened doors and changed the ballet world. I decided it was time to see if you were right."
My gaze flits across her face.
"I'm not quitting ballet, just my company. I asked my mom to help me find another company to take me." Her lips curve, her smile blinding. "I found one, Harlan."
"Where?" I growl. I'll find a way to get myself traded to wherever she's going. I don't care what it takes. I want to be wherever she is.
"Here," she whispers. "I auditioned two hours ago. They asked me to join on the spot. I'm moving to Los Angeles, Harlan."
I crash my mouth to hers, my kiss wild as pride surges through me. Hope does too, so much of it that I can't fucking breathe for a minute. All I can do is cling to her, my tongue sweeping inside her mouth to steal her smile.
"No, ballerina," I growl against her lips, my hands sliding down her body. "You're moving in with me."
She gasps, her eyes flying to my face.
"I promised your brother that I wouldn't get you pregnant before you were ready to quit dancing," I mutter, dragging her shirt up her body. "I intend to keep that promise. But you're moving in here. You're marrying me."
"You can't just decide that," she says, but she's smiling.
"Oh, yeah?" I rip her bra down the middle, leaning down to wrap my lips around one hard nipple. "Watch me, baby."
She groans, her hands flying to my hair, her back arching.
I hook my fingers in the waistband of her leggings and yank. She makes this little gasping sound, half protest, half fucking dare, so I drag them down her legs and toss them somewhere behind me. Her panties don't even survive. I tear them in half, groaning when I see how wet she already is for me.
"Jesus, Sophie. Did you miss me this much?" I run my thumb over her clit, watching her tremble. "Or did you touch yourself thinking about me?"
She gives me that look, the one that says she wants to murder me and kiss me at the same time. "What do you think, Captain?"
I grin and duck my head, burying my tongue in her before she can get another word out.
She shrieks, her hips jerking so hard I have to lock my arms around her thighs to keep her from bucking me off.
I lick every drop, every shudder, every moan from her body until she's begging.
I fucking love when she begs. Sophie doesn't beg for anything, not from anyone except me. Yeah, I love it. I feel like a king when she's pleading with me.
"Harlan, please…" Her voice is broken, needy.
"Give me what I want, and then you can come," I rasp, biting the inside of her thigh. "Say you'll marry me."
She's shaking, her breath coming in ragged bursts, and I love her so much I want to break her open and pour myself inside.
"Tell me that you'll marry me, and I'll let you come all over my tongue."
She stares at me, her hands locked in my hair, her lips parted, her eyes wild.
I press my thumb right against her clit, just the way she likes, and circle slow, then hard. She's so close. Her whole body is strung tight, desperate for release.
"Say it," I demand, my voice a rough growl of sound.