Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
They reach me and Sandra introduces me to the other two: Sawyer’s girlfriend and the girlfriend’s friend, I’m told. I’m not that interested in introductions, not when Sandra’s wearing a goddamned skirt a good eight inches shorter than anything I’ve ever seen her in. She’s wearing a blazer over it, bare underneath. It’s buttoned, but there’s enough skin exposed that I know if I slipped my hand inside to cup her tit I’d find she’s not wearing a bra. Fuck, now that image is in my head.
“So you came alone?” Everly asks, interrupting my contemplation of Sandra’s clothing, or lack thereof. She’s nosey, this one. I’m going to venture a guess that she’s a bit bossy as well.
“I did,” I reply and watch as she has some unspoken conversation with the friend, Chloe, conveyed by a glance and a shrug. Fascinating creatures, women. I’m not sure what they’re agreeing or arguing about but I don’t really give a shit. How have I never noticed how long Sandra’s legs are? She’d have no trouble wrapping them around me and hooking her heels together.
“What is it you do, exactly?” I pose the question to Everly. I know she doesn’t work at Clemens, my memory returning to me that I have seen her once before, in an elevator with Sandra wearing a guest badge. She seems a little on the young side though so my curiosity is piqued.
“Who the hell knows,” she says, throwing up her hands. “I’m graduating in May, I haven’t figured it out just yet.”
A college student? I almost laugh out loud. Fucking Sawyer. What is she, twenty-one, twenty-two? And he gave me shit about Sandra being young? Hell, Sandra must have four years on this girl.
The elevator stops on two and Everly doesn’t waste a second grabbing Chloe and ditching us, so that I’m left alone with Sandra, which I appreciate, so a point for Everly.
A waiter passes with a tray of champagne flutes. I grab two and hand one to Sandra. She says thank you then promptly stares into the glass, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. I’m not sure where this shyness comes from. If it’s because of me, or if it’s her default setting. “I like your skirt,” I offer by way of conversation. Nice, dickhead.
“Oh.” Her eyes fly up to mine, down to the skirt and back. “It’s not mine. Everly made me change.”
Hmm. Everly’s not so bad.
“Well, it works on you,” I say, and her cheeks flush at the compliment. “Perhaps you should keep it and wear it to the next quarterly meeting,” I tease, like a goddamned idiot because her eyes widen and her gaze returns to the glass in her hand.
“Don’t worry, I would never wear something so inappropriate to the office.” She shakes her head, gaze down.
Fuck me, this girl. She evokes something in me. I want to take this weight of shyness off her shoulders. I want to strip her bare, run my hands over every inch of her until she abandons the blushing and begs me for more. I want to touch her everywhere, find out what makes her back arch and her toes curl, to see what she looks like when she comes. For me.
“Sandra—” I begin, but I’m interrupted by a hand on my arm.
Eileen slinks her arm around mine and Sandra takes a step back, as if she’s the one intruding. Before I can say another word, Sandra mumbles something I can’t even catch and gives a little wave as she walks away, leaving me alone with Eileen.
“You looked like you needed saving,” Eileen purrs, dropping her grip on me and winking, as if we’re co-conspirators.
“Did I?” I respond, not caring if my expression is filled with the boredom I feel. Eileen is beautiful, I know that logically, even if I’m not feeling it. She’s tall and blonde, similar to Sandra, yet more polished. Her hair is filled with platinum streaks I’m sure are meticulously reapplied every four weeks. Her skin is bronzed with the hint of a holiday spent somewhere tropical and her figure implies she tends to it daily. Her makeup is applied with an expert hand. She’ll probably offer herself up to me before this conversation is over. Yet I’m distracted by a girl with honey-blonde hair I’m positive she was born with and soft curves that interest me far more than anything Eileen can create in the gym.
What surprises me though, as I look at Eileen, is that she would have interested me once. She’s exactly my type; maybe I’m just having an off night? I keep my eyes on Sandra while Eileen chats away, watching as she disappears into one of the game rooms with the Chloe girl. My thoughts are interrupted when Eileen asks if I’m listening to her. I’m not.