Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
“I want to write some tracks to the next album. I don’t want your songwriter going in and changing shit like our last album,” I blurt out.
His brows furrow. “If you show me you can grow up, Xavi, I’ll give you more freedom. Like any good adult role model in your life, I do things to protect you and keep the pressure off you as much as I can. Take the vacation and come back to me with something I can use. Leave the drugs and alcohol to a minimum, and maybe I’ll consider renegotiating your contract.”
I gape at him in shock. “Really?” Of all the times we’ve fought at his office over this shit…
“Give me something to work with,” he says. “Now, let’s get you off to Blaine.”
Oh, fuck.
What did I just agree to?
I think I just sold my soul to the devil…and it’s not the three-piece Armani suit wearing fucker in front of me.
The devil is a hard-bodied cop who doesn’t take well to bullshit.
And now I’m going on fucking vacation with him.
Good one, Xavi. Good fucking move.
Pulling down the gravel road off the beaten track toward the cabin my old man left me, I already feel ten tons lighter.
I love the city, but the shit I see with my job can leave a mark on the soul. It’s good to cleanse it every once in a while. It’s therapeutic being in the wilderness.
Xavi groans in his sleep, his brow furrowed from troubled dreams. I reach across the seat to rest a hand on his chest when he begins jerking a little, the visions taking hold, keeping him enslaved.
He stills beneath my touch, the lines ironing out across his forehead.
His serene innocence is now displayed on his sleeping form.
He’s fucking beautiful to look at. Pale skin, a contrast to his dark, untamed hair curling around his ears, and a straight nose leading to full lips that look firm and soft all at once.
My body aches to lean in and taste them.
In a crowded room, he can compel a sea of people with just his presence, but to be alone with him is something else entirely. When stripped of his attitude and cocksure ego, there is something vulnerable and almost delicate about him—and intensely alluring.
I raise my hand to stroke his cheek, my knuckles grazing the soft skin, causing him to stir in his sleep and become stiff beneath my touch.
His hand reaches up to grasp mine. Strong, long fingers wrapping around my fist. “What are you doing?” he asks gruffly.
Pulling my hand from his, I nod to the cabin. “We’re here.”
Sitting up and shifting in his seat, his brows raise and his mouth opens. “Wow, it’s…”
“What?”
“Nice, big.” His lips hook up briefly in a crooked grin.
“Did you think it was going to be a shack where we had to share a cot to keep warm?” I ask with a snort.
He answers my question by turning his head toward his window.
Shit, he did think that. “My grandpa built this place with his own two hands. It’s been in my family for a long time. My father passed it down to me. I like to come here to decompress,” I tell him.
“And bring assholes here who need reigning in?” he remarks, rubbing his palms down his jeans anxiously.
“I’ve never brought anyone here.” I grimace. The news seems to surprise us both.
I pull up and turn the engine off, but don’t move to get out. “I don’t want you to feel like this was forced on you, or that you’re a prisoner here. You have to want to be here. Do you understand what I’m saying? I want to help you.”
The truck falls deathly silent. My heart begins to pound while he takes his time deciding if he’s ready for this.
For me.
If he wants to go back, I’ll take him, but it will be hard ridding myself of the desire I have for this damn boy.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel to stop myself from grabbing him and barking, “Tell me your ready, boy, because here I fucking come.”
“I want to be here,” he finally says in a soft tone.
Opening the door, I jump out and feel an overwhelming need to smile. He’s ready.
I’m ready. I’ve got a damn fever burning up inside me for this boy, and he should run because I’m going to break him to remake him. But running now won’t do him any good. I’m on fire, and he’s not just in my path, he’s my destination.
Following me inside, he takes in the place with wide eyes and childlike awe. It’s an open space including a game area with a pool table and bar, and a huge sitting area with a widescreen TV mounted above the fireplace. My favorite aspect, apart from the obvious choice, is the kitchen. It’s huge with a breakfast bar doubling as an island right in the center. There’s something intimate and erotic about cooking for someone else—especially if it’s because you’re both starving from fucking the energy out of each other all day and night.