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)
I nod okay. Finish the eggs. Launch into the story of a strange meeting, a strange offer, a strange dinner.
I tell Ty the particulars. But I keep the important details to myself.
The sweet taste of Ian's lips. The rough feel of his hands. The deep sound of his groan.
I'm in the middle of describing dinner with Shep and Jasmine, and asking Ty for any dirt he has, when footsteps move down the stairs.
Ian. And he isn't wearing a suit. He's in a black robe. It's open enough I can see his chest.
Mmm… yes.
He shoots his brother a look. "Jesus, who are you? Hugh Hefner?"
"Only if you're going to put on a bunny costume." He winks at me.
Ty shakes his head how disgusting. He turns to me. "This might be the end of our gossip."
"Oh?" I ask.
He nods. "Something tells me Ian has other plans for your morning."
Ahem.
"Yes." His voice stays deep and steady. "I did promise."
Chapter Forty-Five
Eve
Ty heads for the door the second he finishes breakfast. Ian walks him out. They linger at Ty's rental car, whispering secrets. Business or pleasure?
I don't know.
I can't begin to contemplate it.
He promised.
Last night, he promised.
And he just said—
And we're going to—
Fuck. I finish my last sip of chai. Chase it with half a glass of water.
Enough to wet my throat. Not enough to calm my nerves.
My pulse is racing.
My body is buzzing.
Every molecule inside me is screaming the same thing: Need. Ian. Now.
I thought I knew want before. The torture of sweltering summers. The discomfort of wet socks. The ache of a broken heater in December.
I knew the agony of too hot, too cold, too tired, too hungry, too thirsty, too worn.
This is different.
A painful, blissful, all-encompassing need.
I finish my glass. Stand. Shift my weight between my legs.
The door opens and shuts. Footsteps move closer.
Ian stops at the table with a smile. "You're on edge, vixen."
I shake my head.
He nods yes. Takes another step toward me. Then another. Another. Until he's close enough to touch. Until he does touch.
One hand around my neck.
The other at my hip.
He pulls me into a slow, deep kiss.
He floods my senses.
The taste of cinnamon on his lips. The soft pressure of his lips. The soft light of bliss.
He's impossibly patient. Slowly, pulling my body into his, slipping his tongue into my mouth, claiming me.
I want that so badly. I shouldn't. I should hate the idea of him possessing me.
But I don't.
I love it.
I need it.
I need it so badly.
He pulls back with a heady sigh. Slips his hand into my hair. Cups the back of my head, equal parts gentle and demanding. "Are you ready?"
My nod is much too enthusiastic.
His laugh is low and easy. "No hangover?"
"Better now."
"You sure?"
"Very."
His smile spreads a little wider. God, it's such a beautiful smile. It lights up his dark eyes. "Enthusiastic."
"You're evil."
"I know." His fingers curl into my scalp. His eyes fix on mine. They stay bright. Teasing. Utterly in control. "You're killing me with that dress."
"I know."
"Good girl." He pulls me into another kiss. He's not patient this time.
He slips his tongue into my mouth, swirling it around mine, claiming my mouth as he knots his hand in my hair.
When our kiss breaks, his eyes find mine. They're not playful anymore. They're entirely demanding.
"Go upstairs. Close the door. Wait on the bed."
I nod. Take a step backward. Hold his gaze for as long as I can.
The need in his eyes sets me on fire. Fuck, he's so hot. I can't stand it.
I force myself to turn. To move to the stairs. Then up them. Down the hallway. Into the bedroom.
The same white light. Only brighter. Closer to afternoon.
It casts highlights over the sleek sheets, the hardwood floor, the dark fabric of my dress.
My eyes go to the mirror. My reflection. A girl I recognize—messy teal hair, raspberry lips, dramatic black dress. And one I don't—
A sex goddess. A vixen. A woman who knows how to command the room.
That's how he sees me. And knowing he's making me wait—
I'm nervous, but that's such a distant concern. Overwhelmed by desire. By the bliss making my veins buzz.
Even that voice, the one in the back of my head, asking what if this is the end—
It's far away. Quiet. Aware it's less important.
Maybe it is the end. The last time I have him. But, fuck, I need to have him.
Whatever that means.
He's driving me out of my fucking mind. I need to do the same to him.
I find my boots in the closet. Slip them on.
There. I have my way to tease him.
With the thought of me in his bed, in only my boots.
It's so—
Fuck. I can barely see straight.
I force myself to sit on the bed. Press my knees together. Let my gaze drift around the empty room.
It's so much like Ian's apartment. Wide open space. Sparse details. Sleek design.