Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I stepped into his bedroom and looked around nervously before making a beeline for the closet. He really did have impeccable taste; even the closet was a sight to behold. It was the size of a small apartment, elegantly styled with built in furniture made of lacquered, exotic wood and nickel hardware. A silk Tibetan carpet in muted tones covered the hardwood floors, and a contemporary crystal chandelier cast sparkles of warm light that bounced off an oversized mirror. His clothes hung like perfect little soldiers, evenly spaced apart, ready to be called into battle. After placing the shirts in their proper place, I paused to stroke the luxurious cashmere of his Kiton suits. My eyes fluttered, closing shut as I basked in the sensation of the kitten-soft fabric brushing across my cheek.
When I opened them, I found him standing in the doorway, staring. I wasn’t surprised to find him there. It seemed like we were on some unavoidable collision course. The masculine slashes of his brows momentarily creased in question. Then I watched the realization wash over him that we were alone in the cocooned silence of his personal items. Reading my intensions perfectly, he quickly covered the doorway with his body.
“Wait.” His voice was gentle, another about-face from him.
“Please move,” I demanded, managing to keep my voice steady even though I was anything but.
“I just want to apologize.”
I stood with my arms crossed and watched a mix of emotions move swiftly across his face. He did look rather uncomfortable. “Was that painful? Did you almost choke on that word?”
The side of his mouth melted into a disarming, boyish grin probably unleashed on scores of defenseless women with absolute success. I almost smiled back. Almost.
“I guess I deserve that.”
“So––you’re apologizing for kissing me?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m apologizing for insulting you,” he said in a soft voice, his eyes fixed somewhere far away. “That was…uncalled for. My anger got the best of me.”
“As it often does, seems to be your default setting.”
He cocked his head as he contemplated my words. “You slapped me.”
“You deserved it.”
His lips twitched in silent mirth. “I liked it.”
Huh? “You’re a strange man.” The silence remained for a moment too long. I couldn’t hold his bold gaze, the intensity of it heating my neck. The charge between us gathered momentum so I rushed to fill the silence. “Apology accepted. Although I still don’t understand why you would be angry with me.”
He treated his shoes to a thorough inspection. A heavy sigh escaped him before he spoke. “When I saw you dancing…with that guy,” he shook his head. “It made me mad.”
What? Wait…what? “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” he murmured. His amber eyes lifted and met mine, glowing brightly with a soul deep yearning. It was suddenly hard to breathe. I was shocked by how openly his emotions stared back at me, and shivered with an acute awareness that we were at a crossroads and he had made his choice.
He stepped closer while I stood frozen in disbelief. He was more agile than I anticipated because I found myself pinned between the warmth of his chest, and thousands of euros worth of custom Italian suits. My heart raced and heat rushed over my collarbone.
“We can’t do this…you…you shouldn’t. You have to stay away from me,” I pleaded.
His reply was almost inaudible. “I can’t.” He tugged at the elastic that held my hair in a tight ponytail, and raked through it with his long fingers as it fell loose down my back. My eyes fluttered. I should have stopped him, should have made more of an effort to resist…but it felt soooo good to be touched, my entire body coming alive with the sensation.
His warm lips came crashing down on mine, then gentled when he realized I wasn’t resisting. His fingertips cradled my face, and traced the contours of it. I swayed into him, pulling him closer as I gripped his finely tailored shirt for balance. His hash exhale thrilled me. Slanting his mouth, he deepened a kiss that tasted of peppermint and lust, and a desperate frustration that surprised and confused me. I kissed him back, matching his intensity. Overcome with desire––it was the only way to explain my behavior.
Wealthy financiers don’t fall in love with immigrant housekeepers!! That soft voice of reason was suddenly shouting in my ear with a megaphone. The doubt found purchase. He felt me pull away and redoubled his effort.
“Vera, I…let me…please,” he muttered between kisses. He knew exactly where to touch me to bend me to his will. With gentle persuasion, the remains of rational thought were wiped away, replaced by a surfeit of feeling. I let go, followed his lead without further objection, and let him do as he wished.
The kiss was tender, artful, giving me just enough that when he retreated, my tongue chased his. He discovered the sensitive skin of my throat, licked and grazed it with his teeth while his nimble fingers unsnapped my uniform. His thumb stroked the dip near my collarbone and ran along the line where my demi bra and breast met.