Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“I don’t think she’s taken. At least not publicly. Who knows with actresses? Who is that beauty with her?”
“Lady Holly,” I say, still staring at Patience. God as my witness, nothing short of death could take my eyes off her.
“How the hell do you know her, mate?” Jimmy asks. I can tell he’s pissed about something, but what I couldn’t say.
“She’s the owner. I met her when I signed up for membership.” One minute in this club and I was hooked. I’m dressed like the duke of nothing, but fuck this is fun. Hands down, the best six thousand dollars I’ve ever spent. The yearly dues are less at five thousand, but it’s going to be so worth it.
“I met with someone else entirely when I signed up.”
“I’ll introduce you,” I reply, feeling every bit like a duke who is about to give his mate a proper introduction to a lady in my acquaintance. How Regency. I’m not gonna lie. I fucking love this shit.
“They are coming toward us,” Bobby Gallagher, another teammate of ours says from my right. He’s dressed like Mr. Wickham in Pride and Prejudice. The ladies flock to him. No matter the century, ladies love a man in uniform.
“My Lords, this Lady Patience. Lady Patience, Lords James, Robert, and Logan. Make her feel welcome,” Holly says before leaving her with us. For the briefest of seconds I wonder how she knew Jimmy, when he had never met her, but Patience smiles and my heart skips a goddamn beat. Jimmy takes off after Holly like a lightning bolt just singed his ass. Bobby shakes her hand first, but then it’s my turn. Our hands touch and I freeze.
Without a doubt, this is my woman.
Mine. Mine. Mine. My inner caveman comes alive for the very first time. I step closer to her, still holding her hand. Her scent hits my nose and I’m lost in a haze of Chanel perfume and something uniquely her. Apples maybe…
My soulmate.
My everything.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Patience,” I say, before leaning down and kissing the back of her hand, never breaking eye contact with her.
“Likewise,” she says, blushing. “But, um…” she begins, worrying her bottom lip. Why is that so fucking hot? “Which lord are you?” Her accent is sexy, and I’d give anything to here that voice say my name. Preferably, over and over as I pound into her. Whoa. Slow down, player.
“Logan Reynolds, at your service.”
“Logan Reynolds? The hooker?” Out of context, that would be bad, but I chuckle anyway. Her eyes widen when I nod.
“Rugby fan?”
“Oh, God. Yes.”
At that moment, a woman comes up to Bobby and pulls him away, leaving the two of us. Standing there. I’m still holding her hand, though it’s down at our sides now. She didn’t wear gloves, but then again neither did I.
“I am he. Is this your first time here?” I ask, as a string quartet starts to play. People begin to dance, and champagne corks begin to pop behind the bar area.
“Yes. I just got back to London.”
“Where were you, if I may ask?”
“On location in Estonia.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“It was alright, but I am glad that’s done. I might have some post-production reshoots, but that will mostly likely be done on a soundstage in California.”
“That’s pretty cool,” I say, as the song playing shifts quickly into another one. Patience’s face lights up when she hears it.
“Oh, it’s Taylor Swift’s Love Story,” she says, bopping her head along to the music. “It’s my favorite song. What the hell is Holly up to?” That last bit was muttered, and it makes me wonder how well she knows Holly.
“Would you like to dance?” I ask.
“Yes. I would.” Since I still have her hand in mine, I lead her onto the dance floor. We dance like we’ve been doing it every day since the beginning of time. Just before the song ends, I stop and pull her as close to me as she can get. She licks her lips in what I hope is anticipation.
Oh, come on now. She’s fucking mine.
four
PATIENCE
Oh. My. God. I was just dancing with Logan Reynolds. The Logan Reynolds. The rugby god himself. I know perfectly well that I own a stake in the team he plays for, but I can’t bring myself to care that this might be ethically wrong or something like that. The lovely string quartet moves effortlessly into another song, Faithfully, by Journey and then his lips are on mine. The rest of the room blurs around us. It’s just him and I. My knees go weak and as if he knows it, he grips me harder to him. There are too many layers between us to, so I can’t feel him, but God, how I want to. For the first time, I want to.
What can I feel are his lips pressed to mine. Our breaths mingling. He tastes like whiskey and fire. Then his tongue sweeps into my mouth and I let him devour. I devour him in return. Vaguely, I can hear Firework by Katy Perry and I fleetingly think that it’s appropriate but then he switches up the kiss. Deeper, harder, and infinitely just more. That’s all I’ve got. Somehow, my back is now pressed up against a wall. When did we move? I don’t know because my eyes are closed. My hands roam his back as I get lost in him.