Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
The next group was younger; Lucius fit in easily, though I kept glancing back to Marguerite as she whispered to the ladies around her. They would glance to me from time to time. I was obviously the topic of their hushed conversation, and none of the information looked good, given their expressions of distaste.
The hour grew late and, though I knew I couldn’t sleep, I was ready to be alone. At least, as alone as I could be. I didn’t want to be looked at or talked about anymore. If I couldn’t be numb, then I’d rather fight my fears alone instead of in front of an audience.
“Are we done?” I asked after we walked away from a particularly nasty pair of older men who leered at me and spoke of nothing other than the trial.
“We can be. Come on, I’ll walk you back.”
“I can find it. It’s just down that hall.”
“I know you can find it.” His light eyes were shrewd, the liquor doing nothing to dim them. “I just want to make sure you get there.”
“Fine.”
He led me away, his hand at my lower back as we wove between furniture and people. The hallway was cooler, the air less full of talk and noise.
“You did well. Except for Ms. Thibodeaux. I’ll never hear the end of that little art slight.”
“How did you come up with that lie about my art selling in New York??”
We turned the corner toward the Acquisition quarters.
“It wasn’t a lie. Your North Star piece did sell last week for $50,000.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Yes, it did.”
I stopped and faced him. “How?”
“You’ll have to ask Sin. I’m not sure about all the details.”
I resumed my pace. “Vinemont sold my art? What for?”
“Like I said, ask him. I don’t invest in art. I just know good art when I see it.”
“Did you tell him my art was good?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Is this your room?”
We arrived at the double doors. “Yes.”
Lucius pushed inside. “Which bed is yours?”
“We haven’t really picked, though I think Brianne took that one over to the left.”
“So yours is next to Gavin’s?” He stepped between the beds and pushed one all the way to the far wall. “That’s better.”
“That’s juvenile.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Maybe. But I don’t want him touching you.”
“Well, when you’re living it up in your suite tonight and we’re down here afraid, I doubt there’s much you could do to stop us from touching.”
He strode to me. “If he touches you, we’re going to have a problem, Stella. A big one. We clear?”
“Sure. He won’t touch me. Don’t you worry.” I put the least amount of conviction into my words as possible. I didn’t know why I was trying to get a rise out of Lucius, but I was. Perhaps to repay him for his Dylan tirade.
He yanked me into his chest, the movement so sudden I gasped. “Do you ever shut up?” He kissed me.
I shoved him away. “Are you trying to cheat and get first dibs? Won’t that piss off the sadistic buddies you’re trying to impress?” I sneered. He’d shown me off for hours, parroting his talking points like he was running for office.
“Come here.” He fisted his hands at his sides.
“No.”
“Come. Here. I won’t tell you again, Stella.”
“Fuck you.” I stepped up onto the bed and then down the other side and turned back to face him.
“You want to do this right now?” He grinned and pulled his sweater and t-shirt over his head. His skin was smooth, light brown hair at the center of his chest and disappearing into his slacks. The V tattoo swirled out of his heart, the thick brambles snaring him. He was leaner than Vinemont, but just as fast. And he was determined, given the look in his eye.
“I want you to leave right now.” I was playing with fire. Something was so wrong about all of this. But I needed to feel something other than fear, other than horror.
“I don’t think that’s true.” He let his gaze run down my body, lingering at my neck, breasts, and thighs before returning to my face. “Your pulse is racing, your nipples hard, and I can just bet your pussy is wet, Stella.”
“Guess you’ll never know.” I backed away.
In one smooth movement, he leapt over the bed and tackled me onto the other bed against the wall. The air was squeezed out of my lungs as he wrestled my hands over my head. He stared down at me, his eyes alight with passion and need.
He claimed my mouth, his tongue sure as it swirled around mine, tasting and touching as he spread my knees apart with his. He was hard, his cock rubbing against me as his hips moved slowly. His kiss was hypnotic, the way he took me over, took my breath, and lit up every nerve ending. I wanted this, something to take my mind off the rest of it. Some small bit of fleeting pleasure before the devastating weight of reality crashed back down.