Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 98823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“Hell yeah.” He made a crowing noise as his treadmill beeped with an alert that we’d been at it a half hour. “Now that’s what I call a run.”
We slowed our machines back to a cooldown speed, and I laughed again, more of that giddy, slightly drunk feeling. “Something tells me you’re still not worn out enough to nap.”
“Try me.” He stopped his treadmill to lean toward me, and I had to hit End on my machine before I went flying. He was hell on my concentration in so many ways. And even sweaty, maybe especially sweaty, I wanted him so much I had to clench my hands on the rails to keep from reaching for him. “Walk me back to my suite.”
“What?” I blinked at him, hypnotized by the gold flecks in his eyes.
“Come on.” He hopped off the treadmill and headed to the door. “Do the bodyguard thing and walk me back so we can shower.”
“Okay.” I hadn’t missed that we, the subtle tease, assumption, and invitation all in one. My abs contracted, muscles wobbling like I’d done a far more strenuous workout. Or like I was nervous. Which was ridiculous. I didn’t do nervous.
But then I didn’t do lots of things. And right then, the heaviness of all I’d missed out on weighed me down, made each step back to Ezra’s suite heavy and slow. I’d told Ezra the truth—I had no talent for trouble. But I’d made a career out of being the good guy, and now I was so damn tired of always doing the right thing, the things my father wouldn’t, living my life by a tight set of rules. I wanted to be a better person even when I wasn’t entirely sure what better was.
Hell, I even regulated my usual post-workout snacks. The memory of last night’s BBQ made my mouth buzz and stomach rumble, all the carbs I seldom allowed myself. Maybe that was what Ezra was: a big, sugary slice of cake, a temptation I couldn’t refuse in the face of overwhelming hunger. It had been so damn long since I’d broken a rule or done something just for myself for the sheer hell of it.
Even this job, which I’d accepted for A-List and the company's future. I was exhausted from always thinking of someone else, something else, some greater purpose. By the time Ezra paused at the door to his hotel room and gave me a knowing look, I was exhausted from far more than the run.
“Coming in?” His voice wasn’t pitched particularly seductively, but all I could do was nod, powerless to do anything other than follow his confident strides. “I assume you need to do the bodyguard thing?”
He made a sweeping gesture at the empty living area, our bags the only thing out of place in the otherwise pristine space. Ezra kept striding toward the palatial bathroom, but he slowed so I could pretend I was still a professional. I checked the closets and under the bed before following him. I could almost make believe that all I was doing was a security check, but then Ezra stopped in front of the bathroom mirror and pulled off his T-shirt, and I couldn’t pretend a damn thing any longer. We were here, and I wasn’t walking away, and it had nothing to do with my duty to keep him safe.
No, I was here, and we were doing this, and all I could do was watch, mesmerized, as Ezra stripped. He was lean with defined muscles right down to the dimples on his ass, miles of creamy skin as perfect as the rest of him, no scars or even a freckle out of place. He gave me the briefest glimpse of his cock, long and hard, before he was on me.
He pulled me close by big fistfuls of my shirt, knuckles searing my chest even through the cloth. His eyes were as hungry as I felt. I was starving for Ezra, and we hadn’t even touched yet.
“Tell me you’re staying,” he demanded, lips both maddeningly close and miles away.
I nodded sharply, a needy noise escaping my throat.
He pursed his gorgeous lips. “Gonna need you to say it. No hiding behind the job or acting like I made you stay. You want me to kiss you?”
“Fuck, yes.” My voice came out as a pained groan. Ezra continued to watch me expectantly, like he needed more of a coherent reply. I swallowed hard. “Yeah, I want this. I’ll regret it six ways to Sunday, but God help me, I want this.”
“I can work with that.” He smiled slyly. “And life is too short to wallow in regrets. Especially when you can let me make you feel so good, you forget to regret anything.”
“Cocky bastard.” I wanted to call him on his assumption that he was the one in control here, but the delicious flutter of anticipation in my stomach kept me still. I was used to being in charge of any sexual encounters, but I couldn’t deny how badly I wanted him to kiss me, mark me, own me. Whatever he had planned, I wanted all of it.