Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 157032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
He lets out a deep, permeating, perfect chuckle, and I find myself smiling broadly.
“Does it look like a bad neighborhood?”
I glance around at the opulence and wealth around me. “Sort of.” I smirk. “Rich people are creepy sometimes.”
He laughs again as he opens the door, and we are quickly transported into his luxurious world. The foyer is dimly lit and he takes my hand to lead me toward the kitchen, turning the lights on as we walk past them.
“Would you like a glass of wine or champagne?” he asks.
“Whatever, I’m easy,” I answer as I look around. I can’t believe this is his house.
He walks me out to a room that has a large bar, and he glances through the glass door of the drink fridge. He frowns. “I wasn’t expecting company and haven’t got any good stuff chilled. Hang on a sec, I’ll go get some.”
He takes off toward the kitchen and I follow him without thinking. Where is he going? He opens a door and disappears down a set of stairs. What the hell? A wine cellar? He has a fucking wine cellar? I frown as I follow him, and my eyes widen as I approach the bottom of the stairs.
It’s a huge room lined with shelves creating aisles, and the walls and floors are sandstone. The air is crisp and cold down here. Wow. This is something else.
He walks along the aisle looking for the wine he wants. “Champagne or wine?”
I shake my head and his eyes rise to meet mine. “What?” he asks.
“You have a wine cellar…” I frown, this is just ridiculous.
“Yes.” He smirks. “I have a wine cellar.”
I shake my head and blow out a breath.
“What?” He frowns.
“Where did you get all this money, Cameron?”
“Champagne?” he asks, distracted.
I nod.
He takes two bottles of champagne from a rack and comes back to me. “Well, that’s a hard question to answer.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I had a trust fund from my father, and then my brother became an app developer and hit it big,” he replies nonchalantly.
I frown. “Who is your brother again?”
“Joshua Stanton.”
I nod. That name sounds familiar somehow. “So, this is their money?” I ask.
“Yes and no.”
I raise my eyebrows. “No?”
“I have an extensive property portfolio from my own investments, so what started out as their money is now money I make for myself. I could probably pay them back now.”
“And this house…?” I ask.
“… was a thirtieth birthday present from my brother.”
I roll my eyes, unimpressed. A birthday present? Are you fucking kidding me? I glance around again. This house must be worth an absolute bomb.
“What’s with the eye roll?” he asks
“Money doesn’t do it for me, Cameron.”
“Money doesn’t do it for me, either. Why do you think I’m a doctor? Just so I can have the title before my name?” He pauses for a moment. “But, I’m accustomed to a certain lifestyle now and I’m not going to apologize for that.” He smiles sexily. “And besides, having no money limits your choices.”
I smirk. That’s true. “Don’t I know it…”
He takes my hand and leads me back up the stairs, and we sit at the kitchen counter. He takes out two crystal champagne flutes and pops the cork of the bottle before he fills our glasses.
He hands me one then holds his glass in the air. I smile and clink it against mine.
“No toast?” I ask.
His eyes hold mine. “I have no toast. Do you have a toast?” he asks.
“Perdre des paris.”
Translation. To losing bets.”
He smiles sexily as the pull starts to swirl between us again. “Perdre des paris.”
Translation. To losing bets,” he replies.
We clink glasses and sip our champagne.
His eyes drop to my mouth and I smirk as I roll my lips.
“So, you placed a bet that you could get me to do anything you wanted me to do…” he says.
I smile. “I did.”
“And what exactly is it that you want me to do?”
I like this game. “I’d like you to kiss me.”
He smirks and rises from his stool. He comes around to stand between my legs. He drops his hands to the counter on either side of me, holds his weight, leans in, and gently kisses me. His lips are firm and soft, and he uses just the right amount of suction. Holy hell, he’s such a good kisser. “It’s nice to have you in my home,” he whispers against my lips.
I smile as his tongue gently sweeps mine, silently promising me carnal things.
“I’m glad we came here,” I whisper, although it’s hard to know what I’m saying because my brain has stopped functioning altogether.
He smiles as he lifts and sits me on the kitchen counter, pulling my dress up so he can stand between my legs.
His lips drop to my neck and he bites my skin softly. “Why is that?”
“I’m not an Escape girl,” I whisper and my eyes close at his sucking and nibbling.