Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
I slip inside before selecting the button for the foyer.
The doors are almost closed when a hand darts between them, forcing them back open.
“No…”
I realize I articulated my gripe out loud when Maksim’s handsome features harden a second before he steps into the almost-empty elevator.
“Sor—”
A low rumble in his throat cuts me off.
When he spins to push the close-door button, my eyes drop to the spectacular curves of his lower back. His suit jacket is impeccably tailored and made from a thick woolen material most Russians are accustomed to, but it does little to hide the ridges and planes I pictured while bringing myself to climax.
Heated eyes steal my focus. Maksim is watching me in the brushed steel material of the elevator dashboard. He appears unappreciative of my prolonged gawk of his ass, so I try to think of something respectable to say.
When my comb through the limited supply of excuses in my head fails to yield anything decent, I shift my search to a part of my brain that rarely gets used—the personal side.
“Late brunch?” I ask when I notice he selected level two. That is where the restaurants and spa are located.
I don’t know why I’m making small talk. He is displaying clear signs that he’s disinterested in a conversation. I’m just struggling with guilt that I used his face to bring myself to climax. I either pretend he is my friend or blurt out a confession I don’t want even my best friend to know.
She’d never let me live down the fact I climaxed over a man who rejected me.
I don’t even know if I’ll get over it.
It feels like Earth circles the sun a million times before Maksim finally replies, “Hoping to still catch breakfast.”
“Same. I could have sworn I set my alarm, but this week has been such a clusterf…”—when his eyes connect with mine in the steel dashboard, and he glares at me with the same intensity as when I tried to apologize, I switch out my cuss word for one that’s more appropriate, like I am speaking with my grandmother—“fudge, I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on.”
His smirk is barely visible, but I act like I got a standing ovation from the audience at a comedy club. My insides gleam as brightly as my cheeks when my deviant head stores his facial quirks for future self-pleasuring expeditions.
I squirm like I’m busting to use the restroom, and the undeniable aroma of lust fills the elevator, which is awkward when we’re joined by a couple on the thirty-third floor.
“Morning,” I mumble before moving to the back of the elevator, fighting not to apologize for the atrocious conditions I forced them into.
When the elevator finally arrives on level two, Maksim gestures for the couple and me to exit before him. He could be being cordial because we’re not alone, but it makes my heart beat a little faster.
Maksim’s brow arches when I fail to follow the couple out.
“I’m going to the buffet,” I announce, struggling not to gleam like a pig about to eat out of a trough. That’s usually how I describe Zoya’s and my eating habits when treated to an endless stream of food.
Maksim’s crimped lips are more noticeable this time around. “The buffet is on the second floor.”
“Oh.” When I step out of the elevator, the undeniable scent of bacon, eggs, and sausages can’t be missed—and neither can the concerned face of my best friend.
How did she beat me? We only stopped to collect one set of passengers.
“They’re not letting us in,” Zoya announces, heading my way. “They said the cutoff is eleven, and there are no exceptions for anyone.” Her disappointed huff ruffles my unbrushed hair. “I think I have some mints in my bag.”
I butt shoulders with her before joining her watch of the dismantling of the food we were hoping to consume. “It’s okay. I have that twenty dollars I had planned to use for an upgrade. We could grab a day’s worth of supplies with that.”
It dawns on me that our penny-counting ways are being witnessed by the last person I want to subject them to when Maksim’s demanding tone prickles the hairs on my nape. “Wait here.”
Zoya eyeballs me as if my reaction to Maksim approaching the restaurant hostess will be more entertaining than their exchange.
She isn’t far off the mark. I’m more jealous than pleased when Maksim’s presence switches the hostess’s personality from bitchy to bubbly in under a second.
She practically fawns over him, her gloating only ending when she tilts out of his shadow and signals for us to enter the restaurant behind Maksim and her.
“Don’t be jelly,” Zoya teases as we enter a space that could seat hundreds. “Even if the buffet weren’t included in his room package, I’d let him in too. He’s hot!”