Imperfect Intentions (Beauty in Imperfection #1) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Beauty in Imperfection Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
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I offer her my arm. “I’m all for surprises.”

She glares at me but hooks her arm through mine. The minute we’re outside, she drops my arm and puts space between us.

Ignoring her hostility, I open the driver’s door. “Would you like to test-drive her?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Despite her cutting tone, she gets behind the wheel.

I fasten her seatbelt before leaning my arms on the open window. “You don’t always have to swim upstream so hard. Sometimes, it’s okay to go with the flow.”

“Spoken like a true expert.”

Laughing, I get into the passenger side.

“Do you ever go with the flow, Leon Hart?”

“I make the flow.”

She scoffs as she starts the engine. “Full of yourself, much?”

“I like you. You keep me on my toes.”

She steers the car smoothly toward the gates. “Pay someone else to keep you on your toes.”

Ah. There’s that jab about me paying for my sex dates again. It must bother her if she keeps on bringing it up.

“You’re the first woman I took on a date.” My smile is wry. “It would’ve been a date if you hadn’t thrown wine on my five-thousand-rand shirt and walked out on me.”

“At least it wasn’t in your face,” she says, her cheeks flushing.

My smile stretches. “Same difference.”

She glances at my crotch. “So you’ve only slept with prostitutes.”

“Don’t worry. I’m clean. I always used protection.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. Your dick isn’t coming anywhere near me.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s not how it looked last night.”

The red color of her cheeks deepens. “You’re an asshole.”

“For spanking you or for bringing it up?”

“You did a good job of not bringing it up until now.”

“I’ll take that as an indication that you don’t want to talk about it.”

Biting her lip, she focuses on the road. When we’re heading toward Johannesburg, she says, “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression about me. I’ve never done anything like that.”

“I know.” I study her profile. “You were surprised at how much you liked it.”

So was I. I didn’t plan on pleasuring her. I merely intended on showing her that her actions have consequences. It’s a lesson I learned early in life. If you deal a punch, you have to be willing to take one. If we’re to make it in any kind of relationship, it’s in both of our interest she learns sooner rather than later that I reward any effort generously. I punish by the same measure.

When she doesn’t comment for some time, I say, “I’m flattered that you’re concerned about what I think of you.”

She laughs, carrying on straight when we reach the split to Durban. “If that’s your deduction, you’ve got me figured out all wrong.”

It’s a lie. I hear it in the humor she forces into the statement. She cares.

She puts her foot down on the accelerator, going over the speed limit. “It’s obviously your thing.”

“Keep it under a hundred and twenty.” I check the speedometer to make sure she complies. “What thing?”

“Spanking,” she says, trying hard to sound nonchalant.

“It’s not, per se. I have no special preference for spanking or any objections against it.”

She frowns. “It wasn’t the first time. You’ve done it before.”

“I had a lot of practice,” I admit. At the hardening of her jaw, I add, “I used to see a girl in Zambia who liked it.”

She glances at me. “But you paid her.”

“Yes. It didn’t stop her from telling me what she wanted.”

Her tone is sarcastic. “And you aimed to please.”

“Why not?” I shrug. “If it made her happy.”

“I bet it did.” She tightens her fingers on the wheel. “What’s her name?”

“Jenny.” I gave Violet the truth. It’s my turn to ask. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” she says quickly. “You need to care to be jealous.”

Another lie. It bothers her, but she doesn’t want to admit it, and I can guess why. Her first time was with me. First times are major. They carry a lot of weight, especially if the experience has been profound. Spanking crosses many lines. It’s profound, all right. She hates that my first time has been with another woman. Still, I think too much of her to feed her lies.

“Violet.”

She glances at me.

“Just because you’re not the first woman I spanked doesn’t mean it wasn’t a new or important experience for me.”

She makes a sound of disbelief. “Are you listening to yourself?”

“Are you?”

“I don’t fucking care who you spanked before me.”

“Maybe so. It still made me harder than I’ve ever been.”

“Urgh. Can we please not talk about last night?”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Why have you only had sex with prostitutes?”

“It suited my lifestyle.”

She chuckles. “You mean you didn’t want the ball and chain of love.”

“I wouldn’t have minded love that much. I was just on the move a lot.”

She steals another quick glance at me. “Traveling through Africa.”

“Yeah.”

“What made you decide to settle?”


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