Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I already got him with my fist once, and I could do it again.
His gaze dances downward, and he catches the fresh gashes on my knuckles.
“You hurt yourself,” he murmurs, immediately reaching out his palm to cradle my wrist. “Why did you do this?”
For a moment, his touch isn’t aggressive at all.
He holds me, examining the wounds with a sad, almost sympathetic look on his face.
“Because I wanted to feel something different.”
He hums, his lashes flicking upward, looking from my hand to my eyes again. “You can feel things without doing this.”
“I’m not afraid of pain.”
“If you are looking for pain,” he says, stroking the underside of my arm, “there are better ways to find it.”
“Yeah? Got any suggestions?”
“Give me those,” he says, gesturing toward the bloody towels.
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Give.”
He reaches out, gripping my forearm and tugging it forward, his authoritative edge coming right back again. His fingers are strong and he gets complete control of my arm again quickly, trying to pry open my fist.
I yank my arm backward a moment later, trying to catch him by surprise by twisting it to the side.
His grip strengthens and he catches me again before I can break free. But when I quickly step forward and bring my arm in the opposite direction, I finally get the jump on him.
My arm breaks loose of his grasp and I feel a smile spread over my lips.
“Try harder next time.”
I spin to make my exit, a rush of adrenaline hits my blood. I take off over the gravel path that cuts between the hedges and roses, and while I know I’m not as strong as Roman, I can fucking run.
Years of football, baby.
I was a natural wide receiver, and I will outrun you any day.
But there’s an iron gate just beyond the hedges.
I falter, coming to a stop.
And it’s already too late when I realize the gate is open, just by a crack, and I could have pushed through if I didn’t fucking hesitate.
Roman’s hand comes down heavy on my shoulder.
I freeze, spinning back around. His other arm lands on my waist, controlling my movement, and if I tried to break free now I know I couldn’t.
He hauls me around and shoves my body up against the wall.
My back slams against the cool stone, knocking the breath out of me.
He pins my injured arm above my head, then keeps the other arm low at my side. The bulk of his body is enough to keep me there.
He’s so much fucking bigger than me.
I’m at eye level with the space where his neck meets the top of the button-up blue shirt he’s wearing beneath his jacket. I can see the edges of tattoos past his open collar, and I can smell the scent of his clean laundry and a hint of something sweet and alcoholic on his breath.
The look on his face is completely calm.
Focused.
Like he’s barely even trying.
Have you done this before, you fucking brute?
“Stay,” he says, his eyes flicking down to meet mine. “Give me the towels. Stop trying to escape.”
“Damn,” I say under my breath, cocking my head to one side. “You’re pretty close for someone I just met. You actually going to fuck me this time, Roman?”
The controlled calm on his face doesn’t budge at all. He doesn’t acknowledge my joke.
I don’t know what it would take to get a reaction out of him, and now I want to find out.
Does he ever speak in more than short sentences?
Is he immune to whatever I throw at him?
Roman slides one palm down my forearm. “Going to stay put?”
“I don’t know. Let go of me and find out.”
His grip suddenly gets much stronger again, like he’s jailing me with his strength.
“I am in complete control of you right now,” he says, giving me a look that conveys pure, undisturbed certainty. “Are you aware of that? If I do not want you to move, you will not move. If I want to keep you right here for the rest of the night, I can do that. Do you want to make this difficult?”
“So you can say more than three words in a row.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you always this annoying?”
I hum. “Two… three… yeah, I guess that one was five words now, huh? Proud of you.”
His eyes flick lower, looking from my lips to my eyes. “Are you finished?”
“Get the fuck off of me if you want to have a conversation.”
His look is still cold. “I don’t want to talk. I want you to do what I tell you.”
I’m shocked when he suddenly lets my arm go, all at once.
He backs away a step, releasing my other arm, too, and I can feel blood rush to the area where his grip was on me.
He’s giving me a moment of full trust.