Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
He kills the engine and turns to face me. “I’ll bring you back tonight if you want to come back. No one is going to know we did this but you and me, Mia. I’ll protect your privacy. I’ll protect you.”
“Not by helping me at work,” I say quickly, rotating to face him as he does the same of me. “That’s not what you mean, right?” I press. “I’m not doing this for special treatment. I don’t need that. I don’t want that. That wasn’t what made me get in the car, in fact, it all but kept me from doing so.”
“Why did you get into the car?”
“I—You’re distracting me.”
He arches a dark brow. “I’m distracting you?”
“It’s not your money either, which you must have thought about.”
“I thought it was my hot body,” he teases.
“It’s not your money,” I say, unwilling to let this topic go for reasons that I can’t define, yet still feel important. “Actually, I think your money is part of my reservation. Yes, I hate your money.”
“And why is that, Mia?”
“You have to expect everyone wants it. You have to expect I’ll want it. You won’t ever be real because you won’t ever believe I’ll be real. Sex would be the only thing real with you, which doesn’t require a trip to the Hamptons.”
He leans in and cups my face, his breath a warm tease on my cheek before he kisses me, a deep, sexy slide of tongue that leaves me panting as he says, “Is that real enough for you?”
Too real, I think. There is something about Grayson that gets to me, that makes me do stupid things like getting into his car. “I need to leave.”
I try to pull away from him, but he slides a hand under my hair and holds me to him. “Mia,” he says softly.
“Grayson.” My hand has planted itself on the hard wall of his chest. “I want you. I don’t think I could hide that very well but if this is just fucking, can we just do that? Then I’ll go back to work and you’ll go back to being king of the world without me?”
He kisses me again, and my God, the man can kiss, and he smells all woodsy and spicy and addictive. “Don’t move,” he orders softly before he releases me and then exits the car. I assume he’s going inside to cancel the chopper, but suddenly he’s opening my door and squatting beside me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Getting you out of here,” he says, reaching across me for my seatbelt, his arm brushing my breast in the process, and the tightening of my nipples radiates straight to my sex.
He freezes a moment and I sense a hunger in him, which only serves to stir more hunger in me. He unclips my seatbelt and pulls me to my feet, shutting the door and then leaning me against it, his big body framing mine. His hands on my hips. “I don’t bring women to the Hamptons or my apartment,” he says. “And yes, I am going to fuck you, Mia, before and after you try my favorite pizza spot in the Hamptons.” He brushes a strand of hair from my eyes. “If you come with me.” He releases me and steps back, offering me his hand and a choice as he does.
I don’t ask him to explain. Maybe he just wants to keep our fling private. I am an employee of his company. Or maybe there’s more to this. I’m not sure, but when I look into his eyes, the connection we share is real and I have this sense that Grayson Bennett needs something real in his life, if only for right now. I press my hand to his and when it closes down on mine, some part of me knows that this night and this man are about to forever change me.
Grayson walks me to him and then puts us both in motion. “Have you ever been to the Hamptons?” he asks.
“No. Have you ever been to Brooklyn?”
He laughs a low, deep, sexy laugh I feel from head to toe. “I know Brooklyn better than you might think.”
“You own half of it, right?”
“I do not,” he says, opening the door for me to enter the building, “in fact own anything in Brooklyn.”
I enter the building, where a small waiting area is my destination with a dozen empty seats and glass doors leading to, I assume, the chopper. Grayson joins me, taking my hand again, his opposite hand lifting to the solo, thirty-something man behind a counter. “Jesse.” The greeting is light, genuine, and without airs.
“It’ll be five minutes, Grayson,” Jesse replies, casual and comfortable, even friendly, with Grayson. He doesn’t act like Grayson is a billionaire with an ego.
Grayson nods to the other man and turns to face me, returning to our prior conversation. “I don’t own half of Brooklyn, however, I do have a close friend, and business associate who grew up in Brooklyn a few streets from where you grew up.”