Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Against his thigh, his phone vibrated. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the cell, swallowing a smile as he saw the text notification from Bell.
—I can’t stop thinking about your cock
Jesus. A groan slipped out of his mouth, and he coughed to cover the sound, making eye contact with the manager before stepping away, out the side door and down the hall.
He moved briskly, his head down, fingers on the screen.
Tell me.
This hall was too long, his office too far. He jogged up the back stairs, nodding to employees as he passed, and shoved open the door, moving down the gilded hallway of the executive level.
His receptionist rose at his approach, and Dario cut off his greeting with a terse shake of his head. “Not now. And no interruptions.”
The receptionist nodded, lowering himself back into the chair, and Dario could die in his office of starvation before the man would open the door. That was the benefit of hiring the right people and training them properly. They stood, jumped, sat and stayed where you told them to. They kept their mouth shut and didn’t see anything. They refused bribes and were paid handsomely as a result.
Dario shut his office door and placed the call.
“Hey.” She sounded lazy, as if she hadn’t yet gotten out of bed.
“You were thinking about my cock?”
She sighed, and there was the rustle of fabric against the phone. “Yep.”
“I’m going to need more information.” He sat down at his desk, his dick already half-hard from her text. Now, with her voice, the soft huff of her breath … he imagined her in her bed, naked, her dark hair messy, eyes hooded, hands running over stiff nipples and in between her thighs.
“I don’t think I’ve experienced its full potential.”
He had to chuckle at that. “No. You haven’t.”
“I’d like to.”
He glanced at the clock and tried to place her schedule. “Shouldn’t you be in class pretty soon?”
“I’ll leave in a few minutes. Right now, I really wish you were here.” She huffed out a breath and he imagined the sensation along the ridges of his cock, her hands sliding along his thighs, her eyes on him, her lips wet, tongue darting out. He thought of how she had licked his length, the way she had grinned, the flick of her tongue, her capable grip.
Maybe it was the distraction, the idea of her mouth, her body, the possibilities, but he told her the truth. “I don’t know what to do with you, Bell.”
“What do you mean?”
He should change the subject. Evade. Redirect her attention to the organ between his legs that was screaming for release. Instead, he continued down the path of destruction. “Our relationship is a risk to my marriage.”
The lazy drawl dropped from her voice and it sharpened into steel. “First off, we aren’t yet in a relationship. Second, I thought you had some arrangement with her. Your waitress, your mistress—”
“I didn’t care about them.”
He interrupted her, his words hardening, his arousal fading. A shame, since that’s what this was supposed to be. Fucking arousal. Bell was supposed to be a piece of ass. A piece of ass that showed up and sat and bent over where he told her to. A pretty face, nice ass, and entertaining mouth, like all of the others. She was meant to be like the others, yet hadn’t been. From the very beginning, she had flipped that possibility on its head. How?
He was suddenly mad without reason, his earlier realizations coming back stronger and sharper, their negatives all he could think about in the wave of fear. She might break him. Ruin everything for Gwen. Lose everything they’d fought so hard to have.
“So, because you care about me … that’s why I’m a problem for you?”
“Yes. It’s not that complicated of a fucking concept.” He growled the words with a ferocity that few women had seen and pushed himself to his feet.
“Well, join the fucking club! You think I want to like you? You think I want to be sitting here, all swoony-eyed, unable to get you out of my fucking head?”
He took a deep breath at her words. This was, without a doubt, the most fucked-up argument on the planet.
He should have become a fucking choir boy when he married Gwen. He should have become abstinent and not dipped his cock into whatever woman caught his eye and risked falling into love.
Not that this was love. It couldn’t be, not this soon. She was a liability, and he was the king of this town. Any spark between them would trigger a bomb, one with Robert Hawk’s name on it. Any love between them would only end in tragedy, the sort that involved body bags and evidence lockers.
He’d been stupid. Egotistic. Cocky. He’d thought with his dick and his heart, and not his brain.