Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
“Why are we in the photocopying room?” My eyes adjust to the dim light as my heart batters against my ribs like a tiny bird trying to escape a cage.
“Obviously, I have a hankering for making multiple images of your ass,” his cool voice replies. “All the more now you’re moving to Scotland. But I meant the other. My name. Say it again.”
“If you heard, why are you asking me to repeat myself?” Pulling my hand from his, I grasp the thin ties of my blouse and pull on them, just for something to do.
“Please.” It’s not a word that seems well used by him. “Say it.”
“Niko,” I whisper, and he exhales a soft breath. “What are we doing in here?”
“Why are you moving back to Scotland?”
“I’ve had enough of living in London.” My shoulders lift and fall in a tight motion, and I swipe my fingers along the top of a row of boxes. “I’m tired of the rat race, the games men play, and I want to go home.”
“Peanut, I’m hurt,” he asserts, not sounding even a little bit wounded.
“Sorry. Obviously, I didn’t mean to lump you in with the rest of your useless brethren.” I roll my eyes, though I doubt he can see. “At least you’ve been straight with me.”
Still holding my hand, he rubs the other down his face. “So you’re returning to a drafty castle in the wilds of Scotland to heal your bruised heart.”
“I didn’t realize I lived in a gothic novel.” I pull my hand away. “Look, it’s fine. I want to go home. I’m not running off with my tail between my legs.”
“What about me?” Now he sounds wounded, which is just ridiculous. He folds his arms across his broad chest, and I have the oddest notion of telling him to lose the jacket. And the shirt.
“We had our moment. We agreed it couldn’t be anything…” Did we agree, or did I just go along with him? Because standing here in the dark doesn’t dampen my want of him—just the opposite. I find myself wondering if the naked need in his expression is reflected on my face.
“I’ll miss you.” One step brings him closer. Another will bring his thigh flush with mine. Please.
“We’ll probably see each other more then. I know you’ll visit Sandy up there.” The words are jagged. I don’t mean them to be. “We can all be friends.”
“But when you’re here, in the city, I know you’re watching the same clouds in the sky.”
“I didn’t know you could be poetic.”
“Sidestepping the same smack head.” He smiles a little, his voice still soft. “Avoiding being run over by the same black cab.”
“You’ve been holding out on me.”
“Darling, so, so much.” My breath halts when he reaches out and winds a lock of hair around his forefinger.
“Niko.” My voice shakes a touch on his name. “Please answer me. What are we doing here in the photocopying room?” Standing in the dark, aching to be touched.
“Because I want to look at you without anyone watching.” His hand moves to my shoulder, his fingers a soft trail down my arm. “Because I can’t wait any longer to kiss you. I don’t want to wait until I take you home.”
“I didn’t say I’d come home with you.”
“Isla,” he chides softly. “You’re better than that.” His fingers link with mine, and the next minute, I stumble into him, chest to chest. “What time do you get off?”
“You don’t want to do this.”
His hand curls around my hip as he whispers, “We could make it now.”
“What?” My brain connects the dots the minute the word is in the air between us.
“You could get off now.”
“Van, really.” With a weird laugh in the place of yes, please, I press my hand to his chest when he lifts it, pressing a kiss to my palm.
“Yes, really.” His eyes glitter in the dim light as he slides my middle finger into his mouth, the lick of his tongue resonating between my legs, flooding my mind with images of how he’d looked on his knees in the nightclub. His fingers inside me, his tongue pressing my clit. We said it’d never happen again—we agreed it was for the best.
“What would that achieve?”
“If you have to ask, perhaps I didn’t do it properly last time.”
“Stop.” I sort of giggle. “Stop fishing for compliments.”
“This is the compliment I want to pay you.” His hand rests over mine, sliding it southward. “Touch me, Isla. See what you’ve done to me.”
My pulse is a wild thing as I close my hand over the feel of him. “You’re so hard.” I bite my lip, my eyes lifting to his. “That sounded so porny, didn’t it?”
“We are in the right place for it.” He means the photocopier behind us.
I hadn’t imagined when I’d arrived at work this evening that it would turn out like this. That I’d see Niko again. That I’d feel Niko again. God, I’ve missed him. When we’d bumped into each other in the restaurant, I’d been almost embarrassed to admit I was on a date. Tamsin had set me up with Jack complaining that I’d lost my sense of fun, like it had slipped down the back of the sofa. And in the worst case of timing, there he was. The man I could look at but had agreed not to touch.