Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
And I won’t know until I ask him.
But I kept my mouth shut. I grabbed some fruit and a piece of buttered toast and started eating, keeping my mind and mouth occupied so I didn’t cross that line. Silence stretched between us, but I embraced it.
“If you have things on your mind, it’s best we get that done now.”
The bread was dry in my mouth, and when I went to swallow, it lodged in my throat. I coughed, grabbed my water, and took a long drink. Cameron was staring at me, watching me the same way a hawk probably did the mouse before it snatched it up and devoured it.
“What exactly do you plan on doing with me?” Sex was the obvious, but what I meant, what was on my mind, twisting me up, was how far Cameron wanted to go, how far he’d push me. Would he break me? Did he want to ruin me?
“You’re worried I’ll hurt you.” Cameron didn’t state it like a question. “You’re worried what you’ve agreed to is a fate far worse than what you were in.” Again it wasn’t a question.
I looked down, not responding, because he already knew that was what I wondered, what I feared. I couldn’t deny my attraction to him, couldn’t lie to myself and say he didn’t make me feel this rush of awareness.
He was a dangerous man who’d killed someone for me, because I’d asked. He could do whatever he wanted to me and I’d have no choice but to accept it, not just because I’d agreed, but also because a small part of me craved it. This twisted part of me wanted whatever he had to offer.
The pain and pleasure, the coldness yet warmth he gave me with just a look. This man was a monster, and I was more than willing to let him destroy me.
What was wrong with me? What kind of person did that make me?
When I heard his chair scraping, I glanced up. Cameron stood, set his napkin down on the table, and came closer. I was frozen in place, unable to breathe, to even think. On instinct I rose, maybe to appear bigger, stronger. It didn’t help, though, not when the only thing I could hear was the thundering of my heart in my ears and the feeling of my belly doing flips.
And then he was right in front of me.
He was so close, his body, his presence so consuming. For long seconds he didn’t speak, didn’t even move. He reached out and touched a lock of my hair, toying with the strands between his fingers, focused solely on it.
“All I want, what I desire, is your surrender.” His voice was pitched low I knew if anyone else had been in the room they wouldn’t have heard him. “I’m not a good man.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I had no doubts whatsoever that this man knew who and what he was. “I’m a killer, a drug lord.” He took another step closer. “I rule the underground with apathy and violence.” His chest was so wide, so powerful that it took up my entire view.
“I know who and what you are.” But did I really?
He shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think you do, Sofia. I don’t think you do at all.”
I was sucking air into my lungs, hard, fast, yet I couldn’t breathe.
“I feel you’re my weakness,” he said softly, his voice deep, like a knife skating along my body, barely touching me, but the threat of getting cut was right there at the surface. He lifted his head then, staring me in the eyes, his gaze so cold, so hard. I was small, miniature compared to him. “And having a weakness isn’t something I’m comfortable with.”
I shivered after he spoke, not because of the chill in the air and not because of his dark, deep voice. I did it because of the way he was looking at me. I didn’t need to know Cameron personally to understand a man like him didn’t do weakness. He was all strength, all power.
Before I knew what was happening, he leaned forward, reached around me, and pushed the plates and silverware to the side. The china clinked together, the glass spilling water along the white tablecloth. And then he had his hands on my waist, lifting me onto the hard, unforgiving top.
I reached behind me, bracing my hands on the linen, half of it wet under my palms. The heat from his body penetrated me, made me drunk, intoxicated with everything that was happening. Two weeks was short in the grand scheme of things, so the fact he wasn’t waiting to take me wasn’t all that surprising.
“Spread your legs,” he said, low, demanding that I do what he wanted.
The rational, survival part of me wanted to ask him what he had planned, what he’d do to me. But the smart part of me said, Shut the fuck up and do what he says.