Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
She is fucking beautiful. Tall for a girl, though still a head shorter than I am.
Teal hair in a neat line. Dark eye makeup. Deep red lips.
Her breasts are a little small for her frame, maybe, but still fucking perfect. And that dramatic curve, from her waist over her hips. Those long legs—
I need them wrapped around my waist.
Now.
"I can't promise I'll control myself if you take off your top," I say.
Her pupils dilate. Her teeth sink into her lip. She shakes it off. Clears her throat. "I'll keep that in mind."
I lead her to my office. Motion to the couch. Black. Like her outfit.
"It suits me." She sits. Pulls her legs under her. Already comfortable. Or aware I want to see her comfortable. Aware her posture is driving me out of my fucking mind.
"Do you always wear black?"
"Mostly. Though I'm obviously partial to an accent color." She flips her blue-green hair. "Do you always wear a suit?" Her eyes pass over me slowly. They stop on my chest.
No tie today. Top button undone. The hint of the tattoo on my chest.
Can she see it in this light? Black on dark skin isn't a lot of contrast. Not in this lighting.
She can. From the way she's staring, it's clear. She wants more.
She wants to tear off my shirt and climb into my lap.
But I'm getting ahead of myself again.
"Usually." I motion to my unbuttoned collar. "Sometimes, I'm more casual."
"Is that casual?"
I nod.
"You wear that to the gym?"
"One way to find out."
"You're inviting me to the gym?"
"I'd like to see you sweaty and panting."
She shakes off her blush. "Do you wear it to sleep?"
"I don't wear anything when I sleep."
"Oh." Her eyes pass over me again. Fast this time. "I do that sometimes. When it's too hot. But I like a little something. It feels right." She takes a long sip of water. Sets the glass on the side table. "This, uh… I guess I don't know where to start."
"At the beginning."
"Okay." She folds her hands in her laps. "Well… before I can give you a number, I need more details."
I nod of course.
"Is it fifteen minutes in a hotel? The act itself? Virginity is an abstract concept, when you think about it. Sure, I've never done much with a guy. Never touched someone below the waist. Or had them touch me. I mean, I touch myself, but only outside. And would that even matter? If I had a sex toy? Some massive dildo? I don't, but if I did, would I still be a virgin? I use tampons and I—"
"Slow down."
She nods. Swallows hard. Looks me in the eyes. "What exactly do you want?"
Chapter Twelve
Eve
What exactly do you want?
The words echo around the room. They bounce off the big glass walls. Sink into my skin.
Despite the steady hum of the air-conditioning, it's warm in here. Hot even.
Or maybe that's the ache between my legs.
The emptiness that only he can fill.
It's ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. I barely know him. And even then, I know I shouldn't take anything at face value.
The man is a former intelligence operative.
He's still in intelligence. Only now it's for businesses, not his country.
My brain refuses to care.
It fixes on his deep eyes, his broad shoulders, his tattooed chest.
Thin black lines. Words. A Latin quote maybe.
What suits him?
And why am I so eager to trace the lines?
Addie would say duh, Evie, you have a type. Have you ever dated a guy who wasn't in a band?
And I'd ask her not to use a nickname for a Pokémon. And we'd get into a whole thing about which Evie evolution is best. And why can't all problems feel this trivial?
I don't mind when she calls me Evie. Only that one time. When her voice was fading and her grip was weak.
Right now, the ugly memory is far away. Fuzzy.
Right now, the words echoing around the room are my entire world.
Ian holds that same poker face. He's infinitely collected. Impossibly collected.
His dark eyes stay fixed on me. Reading me. Seeing everything I keep secret.
I swallow hard.
"I want you." His voice is as even as his posture. "I want to be the first to have you. The rest of the specifics are negotiable."
"Okay." Where is my water? Where can I put my hands? I unfold and refold them. Try to project confidence. He's an ex-spy with more money than God. I'm a broke girl who haggles poorly at the flea market. I'm in over my head and I can't let it show.
"I make arrangements with a lot of women."
"You pay them?"
"No." His eyes pass over me again. Slowly. With a hunger that makes my thighs shake. "I told myself I never would."
"You never would—"
"Pay a woman for sex."
"Oh." Wheels in my brain turn. Rich, handsome, with all the information in the world… and usually unwilling to pay for sex. Either he's in dire need of a virgin. Or he truly wants to stop the doctor. Or it's something about me.