Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Which begs the question why would he want me? Or any unwilling Willow Girl? He’s good-looking, he has money. Granted, he has a shitty family, but still. Why bother with me?
I shake my head and open the folded sheet of paper. It’s a bank statement. My eyebrows go up at the figures I see.
I don’t come from money. The Willows used to have money, but it’s long gone. Even though we live on a huge piece of land, in what was once an opulent mansion but has lately been cheaply refurbished, even some parts of the house closed off. What we could do with money like this.
He must have been going through it with a fine-tooth comb, because there are markings along some of the lines, but it’s the note scrawled on the side that catches my attention. I don’t have time to investigate, though, when, out of the utter stillness of the night, the bedroom door crashes open and the lights go on and Sebastian is standing in the doorway, looking all huge and pissed off.
It takes me a full minute to process that I’ve been caught, and I stand there, dumbfounded as he looks at me, looks at the sheet in my hand, the open drawer.
“I saw you leave.” It’s all I can manage.
“I guess you saw wrong.” He steps inside and closes the door, making a point of locking it and pocketing the key.
I swallow.
“What do you think you’re doing in here?”
I look down at my hand, at the paper I’m still holding, and set it on the nightstand.
“Nothing. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d see if anyone was here.” I’m so bad at lying.
“You thought you’d look in the drawers to make sure no one was hiding inside?” He gestures to the open one beside me.
“You said I was welcome—”
“In certain rooms of the house. My bedroom wasn’t one of them, not to mention you rummaging through drawers.” His eyes on me, he walks to the end of the bed across from me.
“In my defense, I didn’t know this was your bedroom.” I move to the other, and we’re both watching each other.
“You have no defense,” he says, shifting a little, me mirroring his move. “Whose shirt are you wearing?”
“Your brother’s.” I notice the slight narrowing of his eyes, the tensing of his jaw.
“Did he touch you?”
“To take me down from the whipping post you stuck me on, remember? And he was a perfect gentleman.”
At that, he raises both eyebrows and seems on the verge of laughter. “I wouldn’t bet on that, Helena.”
I take advantage of his distraction. “I’ll go back to my own room now if you’re going to be that weird about things.”
I take a step, trying to appear casual, like I don’t know how much trouble I’m in, but he lunges toward me and I jump to the other side and scramble onto the bed to cross it to the door.
But it’s a trick, because he anticipates my move and catches me easily, tosses me onto my back on the bed.
I let out a scream and roll onto my belly, get up on hands and knees to make my escape and about a second later, I’m yanked flat on my belly and he’s got his full weight on me, his mouth at my ear. I feel his cock hardening.
“I don’t want my brother’s smell on you,” he says, his voice low and deep, his breath at my cheek making me shudder.
I’m having a hard time breathing, but he gets up, kneels over me, and practically tears the T-shirt off me.
“What, are you worried he’s marking your property?”
“Exactly.” He turns me onto my back, keeps me safely tucked between his powerful thighs, and gives me a grin. He takes my wrists and spreads my arms out to the sides and leans in close. “Time to pay, Willow Girl.”
He transfers my arms into one hand and reaches under the bed with the other, pulling out a pair of leather restraints. Squeezing my thighs between his, he binds my wrists and draws them over my head, clicking the cuffs into a ring attached to the headboard.
“What the hell is that?” I ask, trying to pull free.
He pulls his shirt over his head in one brisk move and fuck, he’s so beautiful, all tanned olive skin and cut, hard muscle and all that ink. From the look on his face, he fucking knows it.
Sebastian leans down, inhales at my neck. “You stink of my brother.” He licks my cheek. “I’ll take care of that, though,” he says as he starts licking me again like we’re animals, like he’s an animal licking his dinner.
I yank at the restraints even as my body remembers what he did earlier. Remembers how he made me feel. Even as it traitorously wants more.