Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Riley sat across from me, wearing her sweats, a pale hand escaping the sleeve, clutching her wine glass, the last dregs of Merlot stagnating in the bottom of the bowl.
My dining room afforded us a view of Miami, of the lights, the palm trees, the coast. This was prime real estate, and I’d definitely paid for the view.
“Jax,” she said and electrified me with my name. She set down her wine glass beside her empty plate—Christ, she’d almost licked it clean of lasagna—then scooched to the edge of her seat. “This place is amazing, it’s seriously the most gorgeous apartment I’ve ever been in. Are you sure you want me staying here? You don’t even know me.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Are you trying to tell me something? You’re the ax murderer?”
“No.” She laughed, and it felt right in here, in my apartment. Those were dangerous thoughts. Dickhead thoughts.
I’d never backed down from a challenge or set my eyes on a goal I couldn’t attain, and right now, she was that. “Then I don’t see a problem,” I replied. “We’ve already discussed this, and that conversation’s over. Got it?”
“Do you always talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you think everyone will fall in line and do exactly as you say.”
“It’s operant conditioning,” I replied.
“So people obey you, and you act like they’ll obey you as a result. It’s a reward system for you to be obeyed?”
“Wow,” I said. “I didn’t think you’d catch that.”
“Why? Because I swing around a pole by day?” She flashed me a taut smile, all teeth and tension. “I majored in psychology.”
“Oh? What’s a psychology major doing in a dance studio by day? And night.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to judge me. Don’t you own, like, ten strip clubs?”
“Five,” I replied. “And I’m always looking for more talent.”
Riley’s shit-eating grin vanished. She looked down at her empty plate, then rose and made to lift it. “I should—”
“No.” I shoved my chair back and circled the vast table my interior decorator had stuck in here. It was meant to make me feel like a king at a fucking banquet, but it left me empty. Empty chairs brought only silence, after all.
I reached Riley and took the plate from her. My thumb brushed the back of her hand and she stiffened. I did too. Just not in the same way.
“I’ll take that,” I said and removed the plate from her grasp. I plonked it back on the table again, left it there, then faced her. “I don’t want you to be a stripper in my club, if that’s what’s on your mind, Riley.”
She didn’t speak but chewed on her bottom lip instead. That mouth belonged on mine. I needed it on my dick, on my body. I needed it parted and moaning my name, over and over again.
I dragged my fingers down her cheek, and she leaned into the touch, squeezed her eyes shut tight so the lids wrinkled up.
“I wouldn’t want anyone looking at you like that,” I said.
“Like what?” She met my gaze again, arched an eyebrow, but didn’t step away from my touch.
“Like you’re a fantasy waiting to come true.” My fingers slipped beneath her chocolate locks, trailed around to the back of her neck and took hold of it.
“I should get some sleep,” she said. “I have an early class in the morning. Thank you for your hospitality. I’ll consider your offer tomorrow, in the light of day, when there’s some—” she cleared her throat, then muttered, “distance.”
I released her, immediately, trailed my fingers down her shoulder and stepped back. “Let me show you to your room.” I walked past her. Fuck it, if she caught a glimpse of my dick, raging against my pants, all the better. The woman wanted me, though she’d resisted me thus far.
A first for me.
I’d never had to try hard for women. I’d never had to chase.
I entered the hall, listening for her footsteps behind me, soft on the hardwood in here. I halted in front of the guest room then opened it up and clicked on the overhead lights. It was clean and dust-free, well maintained, as was everything in my apartment.
The queen-sized bed against the wall was outfitted in white sheets, and I pictured tearing off Riley’s sweats and dirtying those sheets. Showing her feelings she’d never had. Possessing her fucking soul.
“Here,” I said. “There’s a bathroom down the hall, and I’m right next door to you if you need anything.” I nodded to my open bedroom door a few feet away.
“Thank you,” she said, and turned her head, the light catching the flecks of hazel in her irises. I traced the line of that pale, swanlike neck, the soft skin peering out above her top. I caught her eye, and she flushed bright red. A tiny noise escaped her, almost a moan.