Total pages in book: 224
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
“You’re ridiculously overbearing,” I comment dryly.
“Don’t you want to know what I have for you?”
“I feel quite certain that question is a trap.”
“It’s an invitation. To leave with me now.”
To leave with him now.
And go where?
And do what?
My gaze meets his and the air around us thickens, the charge between us palpable. I want this man and he wants me. I don’t know how I do that and work with him, which means I can’t sleep with him. I am, however, not getting out of the elevator ride, nor am I going to try. I’m not going to sleep with him and this is my chance to show us both that my willpower is steel. I grab my MacBook and several folders, sliding them into my briefcase before sliding it and my purse over my shoulder. “I’m ready,” I announce, and I swear I feel like I just said something naughty. I can’t put it back in my mouth and I don’t even try to talk over it.
I round the desk and walk toward him, but he doesn’t back out of my doorway and I can’t just back-up or stop without seeming scared or intimidated. I keep walking and end up stopping a foot in front of him. “I thought we were leaving?”
He just stands there, big, beautiful, and all power and control; a man who I am certain in this moment wants to control me, to own me. Oddly though, I’m not sure this pleases him. I search his face and…no. No, I do not believe it does and yet, it’s there. His need to do just that. It radiates off him, a hard push that all but demands I submit, and I am suddenly warm all over. I want to be owned by this man, but in that wholly female, while we are naked kind of way, that ends when I put my clothes back on. Only it won’t with Reid. I know this. That will be the price for my pleasure. He’ll own all of me.
That’s not going to happen.
I lift my chin, letting him see this decision in my eyes, and he must. He abruptly steps backward as if he senses or reads my limits, as if he actually cares what I feel. I would like to think that he does. I want to believe he has that capacity in him. Or maybe his need to reject me wins over his need for a conquest. I dislike this thought too much and shove it aside. I join him in the lobby, falling into step with him as we walk toward the door. He holds it for me, and I pass through, aware of him watching my every move.
We start walking again, and the silence between us is not comfortable. It’s heavy, it’s filled with the push and pull between us, with his charged energy doing both right now. All I can think of is the tiny elevator car, and that moment arrives when I step into the compartment with just him, and my heart is thundering in my ears. Reid punches the lobby level and we stand side by side, his energy filling the tiny space, while his earthy male scent teases my nostrils.
“Gabe was right,” he says.
Surprised by this comment I do not expect, I dare to look at him. “About what?”
“You handled the room well tonight.”
When Gabe had complimented me, it had felt nice, but from Reid, it’s unexpected. It’s different. It stirs a funny feeling in my belly that I want to reject but instead hold onto, pull close. “And you,” I say, considering him, “gave me room to do it.”
“I told you, Carrie.” He turns to face me, compelling me to do the same, as he adds, “I’m not your enemy.”
“I’m trying to believe that.”
“As I am of you,” he says.
“Why would you think that I’m your enemy?”
“Our first meeting wasn’t exactly friendly once we got past the orgasm.”
“No,” I say, hating the memory of his tongue on my clit now in my mind. “I suppose it wasn’t.”
“Then you know why I might be concerned that you’re an enemy. We need to learn to trust each other.”
“How?” I dare to ask, when he may well deliver one of his crass comments in reply.
“How indeed,” he says, but the elevator dings before I can object to that non-answer, and he’s already holding the door for me. I walk past him and he is immediately on my heels, the two of us walking toward the exit with him doing nothing to make good on his claim to have something to show me. We step outside and he motions to the right, my normal evening path toward Battery Park.
“I’ll walk you home,” he says.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I walk home every night by myself and,” I frown, “how do you know where I live?” I hold up a hand. “Never mind. We already determined that you had me investigated.”