Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Of course.”
I glance out the window as he answers the call.
“I’d be happy to do that, sir,” he says without a hint of hesitation in his tone. “I’ll be there at ten-thirty tomorrow morning to drive you.”
Just as I turn my head, I catch sight of the reflection of Rygar’s blue eyes locked on mine in the rearview mirror.
“We are on our way there now.” Rygar wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ll ask her. Just a moment.”
I lean forward on the seat, hoping I’m the ‘her’ he’s referring to.
“Mr. Wells would like to speak with you.” Rygar holds his phone over his shoulder. “If that’s all right with you.”
I take it from him and suck in a deep breath before I greet the man I left not long ago. “Hello?”
“Abigail.” Declan’s voice is low and edged with a rasp that I can feel all the way to my toes. “I didn’t have a chance to properly thank you for tonight.”
A light laugh escapes me. “Thank me for what?”
“For helping me remember why I love this city.” He lets out a barely audible sigh. “Sometimes I forget that something special can be right around the corner when you least expect it.”
Feeling bold because of the physical distance between us, I smile. “Am I the something special?”
“You’re the something spectacular.”
I can’t help but laugh. “How can I not accept a compliment like that?”
“Are you going home to someone tonight?”
“My roommate,” I answer as generically as possible since his question caught me off guard.
“Does your roommate share a bedroom with you?”
“She doesn’t.” I bow my head to hide my smile from Rygar. “Are you asking if I have a boyfriend, Mr. Wells?”
“Boyfriend, lover, fuck buddy,” he spits the last two words out in such a rough tone that my core clenches.
How is he so brutally sexy, even during a phone call?
Speechless, I stare at the back of Rygar’s seat as the car heads toward the bridge. I’m grateful the driver can’t hear this conversation.
Declan’s deep voice fills the silence I left when I didn’t respond to him. “To be very clear, I’m asking if you’re sleeping with anyone at the moment.”
“I’m in your car with your very charming driver.” I grin when I hear Rygar chuckle. “So the answer is no, I’m not doing that right at this moment.”
“Abigail.” My name comes out sounding like pain is etched in each syllable, or maybe it’s need.
“I’m single,” I whisper. “Are you?”
“Very,” he says brusquely. “What would it take to get you to tell Rygar to turn the car around?”
I drop my gaze to my lap. “You want me to come back?”
“Now.”
“I don’t know you,” I remind him.
“You want to,” he counters. “I promise I’ll give you a night to remember.”
“What will I give you?” I ask without thinking.
“The only thing I want right now. The one thing I’m craving. You.”
His words ring in my ears, heating my body from the inside out.
It’s reckless. It’s spontaneous, and unlike anything I’ve ever done before, but I lower the phone slightly and catch the driver’s gaze one last time in the rearview mirror as the Williamsburg Bridge looms in the distance. “Turn the car around, Rygar. Take me back to him.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Abby
When he swings open the door to his apartment, I expect to find him wearing something other than the tux, but the only thing he’s lost since I last saw him is the bowtie that was wrapped around his neck.
Declan Wells is holding a glass tumbler in his hand. There’s a small amount of amber liquid in it and some ice. He brings it to his lips, taking in the last of the alcohol before an ice cube slides into his mouth.
He bites it as his gaze drops to the ridiculous gown I’m still wearing. “I’m aching for you, Abigail.”
I glance at the front of his pants, and the evidence is clear. He’s as hard as stone, and judging from the bulge beneath the fabric, the man is well endowed.
I want to tell him I’m aching too, but my words are all caught behind a lump in my throat. In the car, I felt emboldened when I agreed to circle back here to get into his bed.
Now, I wonder if I’ll walk out of here as the same woman who walked in.
Declan is the type of man a woman never forgets.
“Come in.” He motions for me to enter his apartment.
I can already tell it’s the most breathtaking property I’ve ever stepped foot in. This is where a person lives if their wealth rivals that of only a few dozen other people in Manhattan.
I walk in and head straight across the room. I’m inexplicably drawn toward two windows complete with padded window seats. They border a dark wood bookcase. This is what interior design dreams are made of.
As soon as I reach one of the windows, I lean forward and glance out because I sense that when we say goodbye hours from now, the view of the city will be the last thing on my mind.