Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Okay, wasn’t expecting that. An expression of pure lust crossed Louis’s features. What the hell sort of game was Cassian playing at? Did he know what he’d left would affect Louis this way? Louis suddenly groaned and stumbled back. “S-sorry. Sorry. I just…” He shook his head. “Tie me up, you need to tie me up.”
“So you don’t kiss me?”
His eyes blazed with fury. “Kiss you? The last thing on my mind is being tender and wasting time with a kiss.” He clenched his teeth. “You’d be lucky if any of your clothes stayed intact.” He swayed and then squeezed his eyes shut. “Hurts. It hurts. The hell would he put something like this in here?”
“Control.” I fished for my phone. “Of your baser instincts, I’m assuming. You’re doing great, though!’
“Was that a joke?” he hissed. “Are you joking right now? Have you ever had a dick so hard you could use it as a hammer?”
I made a face. “Yeah, I’m going to have to say no.”
“You know what I mean.” He rubbed down the front of his trousers, hands shaking. “This is bad. I can’t—” His breath came out in an exhale of curses. “Like I said, tie me up.”
“It’s a trick.” I pointed my phone at him. “You just want me to get close, I’m not tying you up.”
He reached for the gun in the back of his pants and set it on the counter. “Shoot me. Please.”
“I’m not shooting you!” I shrieked. “What do you think my dad would say?”
Louis laughed hysterically. “Oh, I don’t know, good job? He’d probably buy you a sports car!”
I huffed out an almost laugh. “True.”
“So do it!” He clutched the edge of the countertop with his fingertips. “Tie me up, shoot me, I don’t care if you get stabby, just give me something else to focus on because this is the worst out of all of them and you’re you!”
“Me? What did I do?”
“Other than this?” He pointed at himself. “You’re beautiful. You exist. Plain and simple. It’s biology, Tempest,” he snapped. “I’m aroused. I’ve been given God knows how much of some drug that feels ten times stronger than ecstasy—don’t ask—and then there’s you. You’re… you.”
His heated gaze dragged over me, slow and unashamed.
“You’re stunning. From the way you lick your lips to the way you smell like temptation itself. Smoky. Citrus. Vanilla.” His voice dropped. “Your scent gives you away—hidden in plain sight. Like you’re begging someone to crack you open and figure out what makes you moan, laugh, cry… scream.”
My breath hitched.
“It would be the best hunt of my life,” he continued, relentless, raw. “Finding every part of you no one’s ever touched. Laying claim to that? Experiencing that?” His jaw tightened. “You think this is just about a drug? No. This is about magnifying what any sane man feels when he’s forced into your presence—feeling inferior, desperate to unravel every layer that makes Tempest Alfero exist. To beg—to beg her to stay.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
No one had ever spoken to me like that.
Men usually kept it simple—you’re hot, you’re sexy, nice body, great kisser. They praised flesh and ignored the soul, like the two weren’t a package deal. I used to love it. Dissociation was easy. Safe.
Until I realized that missing piece—the part I kept locked away—was exactly what I wanted someone to see.
And when I finally did show it… no one wanted it.
Until now.
Louis’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “You’re so pretty,” he said quietly. “You torture men without even trying. What a gift.”
I took a step toward him.
He shot his hand out. “Don’t. I’m serious, Tempest. I can’t do this. We can’t do this—not like this. Please.”
Sweat poured down his face, tracing his jaw.
“I’m trying really hard,” he muttered. “Leave it to me to get taken out by an aphrodisiac and you.”
Slowly, deliberately, I reached for the gun on the table and lifted it.
“Does it count, then?”
His eyes flicked to the weapon. “Does what count?”
“My first kill.”
“In what universe did I tell you to kill me—”
I fired.
The bullet tore into the soft tissue of his outer shoulder and exited, lodging in the wall. I calmly set the gun back down.
“I meant your libido.”
He groaned, clutching the wound, glaring at me through pain and disbelief. “Fantastic. We’ll tell the family the reason you’re mad is because you finally did the impossible—killed a man’s sex drive.”
I smiled. Then I sobered as he slumped, blood spilling fast.
“Little help,” he muttered. “And if I pass out, it’s not you. It’s me.”
I hauled him upright. “’Tis but a flesh wound.”
He gripped my arms. “How dare you quote Monty Python when I’m on my deathbed. You’re not allowed to be interesting right now—it makes me want to stay conscious.”
I staggered under his weight, dragging us toward the bedroom. “Good. Because you’re too heavy to carry unconscious, and I prefer your eyes open.”