Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
My heartbeat skips and flips in a noticeable way. She is available. I could go to her, or have her brought here.
Come over. I’ll send a car.
Dylan…
I swallow and type three words that show more weakness than I’d prefer to reveal. I need you. Apparently, you have me addicted.
I need her tonight more than ever. I need the distraction her body offers, the pinpoint focus her smile provides, the relief from the painful past that only she can bring.
I wait, watching for her answer, and when it comes and she’s agreed to come over, I can’t stop the unbidden smile that stretches my mouth. Sending a car now.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and glance up to find everyone’s eyes on me, apparently watching the entirety of my text exchange with Raven play out on my face.
“I know what that grin means,” Austin says.
“I’m sorry to say, that’s the game,” I announce. “Thank you all for coming over, but I’ve got something that needs my attention tonight.”
Teddy grumbles. He’s down about two thousand dollars, while Noah looks curious. Austin raises a brow at my wording, “More like someone needs your attention.” He doesn’t sound upset. If anything, he’s amused at my quick turn of mood.
Austin’s clarification gets Ollie moving quickly. “In that case, I believe we can cash out and be out of here in ten minutes, don’t you, gentlemen?”
Austin starts counting his chips. He’s willing to make a guess, if anything. “We can pick this up another night.”
“That works for me,” I tell them and glance at the clock, eager for them to get out so I can have Raven all to myself.
CHAPTER 19
RAVEN
My heart’s in my throat as the elevator climbs up the shaft. The doorman in the lobby said nothing, not even raising a brow as he scanned the panel for me and sent me on my way.
I’m still not sure if I’m doing the right thing, neither by running over here like I’m at Dylan’s beck and call, nor in what I chose to wear while doing it. But Maggie supported me when I told her my idea, helping me pick out an outfit. She even helped me knot the trench coat I borrowed from her closet, the remnant of an old Halloween costume of hers where she dressed as Carmen Sandiego. She’s ‘released me into the wilds’, as she called it when the car Dylan sent showed up.
The elevator slows, and the door dings before opening, revealing a short, almost perfunctory hallway in front of a set of ornate, all-black double doors. Stepping forward, I clear my throat, swallowing my fear as the elevator closes behind me.
Am I doing the right thing? Is this reckless? Am I going to regret it?
I don’t know, but I’m doing what every fiber of my body tells me I have to do. That I want to. That I want him. All night, during dinner, I felt like I was in the wrong place, that where I needed to be was in his arms.
Lifting a trembling fist, I go to knock on the door, but before I can, the doors swing open on silent hinges, revealing the foyer inside. He’s standing there, just on the edge of where the foyer becomes what looks like a short set of steps to an elevated living room, and the rest of the penthouse suite stretching out beyond.
Of course he’d live in the penthouse. But he looks like he’s exactly where he should be. I know that wasn’t always the case. I learned that from my research about how he became a self-made man, and Dylan’s alluded to rougher days in his past. But you’d never know it now. He’s perfectly at home surrounded by opulence. It suits him.
He looks powerful and knee-quakingly handsome. He’s dressed like he just got done at the office, his black suit pants tailored to his body, his shirt unbuttoned a few buttons to reveal his smooth, powerful chest, his sleeves rolled up, showing off the corded muscles of his forearms.
Holy hell. This man is bad for me in ways that feel too damn good.
“Mr. Sharpe,” I rasp, my legs quaking. We’re not at work, and there’s no one who might overhear us, but I use the professional name intentionally, nearly purring it. “I missed you today.”
“I missed you too, Miss Hill.” There’s a hint of tease to his voice as he plays along with me, but mostly, what I hear is the barely disguised need in his words. It sends a shiver down my spine.
“What have you been up to?” I ask casually. As if this could be an everyday occurrence as I walk deeper into his suite and look around while he closes the door behind me.
“Killing time until I could fuck you again.”
I gasp, turning to meet his gaze. Hypnotized, I stand tall while his eyes grace over my body—my breasts, my hips, my exposed legs, and back up to my face. “What are you wearing?”