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)
Then I’d be flattered beyond belief, but this isn’t what I lead with. “You could’ve kissed me earlier.”
“I was getting to it.” He makes a rolling gesture with his hand. I suppose there isn’t a polite hand gesture for there were other exploding matters to consider.
“Well, that boat has sailed.” My hand tightens on the fabric as though it might somehow help my restraint.
“If you’re so sure, why the hesitancy?”
“What?”
“Unless you’re planning on spending an eternity up here alone?”
“Yes,” I deadpan. “Because that is so likely to happen.”
“Like our kiss.”
“Exactly, a kiss that’s definitely not likely to happen.”
“And you’re sure of that?”
“Sure that I won’t let you kiss me?” I ask in the vein of as if!
“Sure that you won’t kiss me.”
“I’m becoming more and more sure of it with each passing minute.”
“I’m willing to wager on the opposite.”
“You want me to bet that I won’t kiss you? For the use of your jacket?”
“No, darling, that was an exchange. This is a wager. Name your terms.”
“I’m not—”
“Not sure you can restrain yourself?”
“How odd. I do suddenly feel like strangling you.”
“Kinky.” His blue eyes glitter.
“Try murderous.”
He gives a sudden, startling laugh. “I knew there was a reason we gelled. Name your terms.”
“This is ridiculous. I’m not going to kiss you.”
“Then it won’t matter what terms you set.” He slides his hands back into his pockets. “Will it?”
My gaze narrows as a sudden thought hits. From his bespoke shirt to his handmade shoes, he is obviously monied. But the thing about rich people, I’ve observed, is that they don’t like to part with their trappings of wealth. They’re generally a bunch of tight wads and skin flints. So how better to put him off than by threatening to hit him where it hurts. In the wallet. Or better still, via the rich man’s version of a penis extension.
“How did you get here tonight?” My eyes flick over him as though I’m seriously considering it. Considering him. I’ll bet it was in something obnoxious like a Ferrari.
“I drove,” he answers agreeably.
“Was it a nice drive?” Keeping my words careless, I slide away a fallen lock of hair.
“An Aston Martin is always a nice ride,” he replies, his eyes lighting with understanding. He pulls a leather key fob out from his pocket. “It’s yours,” he adds, holding it up so it dangles from the tip of his forefinger, “if you can resist me, that is.”
“You have yourself a bet,” I retort, folding my hands, and his jacket, over my chest. “If I win, I get the car. If you win, you get a kiss.” This is so, so juvenile. So ridiculous. And such fun!
“That’s not how a wager works,” he condescends. Urgh. I hate being patronized, especially by men! Strangely, I think he seems to get that by what he offers next. “I just meant those aren’t my terms.” He palms his car keys before sliding it back into his pocket. “The kiss is the event we’re wagering on.”
“Fine.” I suppose. “So what is it you want?”
“Oh, the possibilities.” His tiny smile is taunting and truly devilish.
“Just spit it out and let’s get this over with.”
“I want five minutes alone with you.”
Something inside me starts to pulse, not for his words but more from the way he’s looking at me. Like he’s already won and he’s making plans. I pause, not sure how to respond—let’s do it? I’ll gift you those five minutes gladly? It’s weird what runs through my head when you consider what finally falls out of my mouth.
“Five minutes?” I trill. “How disappointing for you.”
4
Van
“Five minutes? How disappointing for you.”
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. I open my mouth to speak but can’t find the words. I might, on occasion, choose not to speak, but I’m never at a loss for words. “Disappointing?” I eventually manage.
“Obviously.” Her gaze dips to my crotch with an expression that borders on sympathy.
“Just so we’re clear, if I’d wanted to fuck, you’d already be flat on your back. And it would’ve taken longer than five minutes, Peanut.”
“Peanut?” she repeats indignantly, her mouth now a small moue. She has a pretty mouth. Unusually heart-shaped and full. “Well, if you had managed to get me on the bed—”
“Which I would’ve. Had I tried.”
“It would’ve quickly turned from a divan into a waterbed.”
“Hence peenut, Peanut.” I am enjoying myself much too much.
“That is really…” She halts and inhales deeply, and my gaze dips to the distracting rise and fall of her breasts. Jesus, since when have I been unable to concentrate because of a pair of tits? Even incredible tits, deliciously high and firm, but still. “Horrible,” she adds, aggrieved.
“There are worse things to be called.” My smile leaks through my words, pissing her off just a little bit more.
“You should take this back.” She thrusts the jacket my way as she resumes her mask of calm indifference. “Especially if it’s only going to take five minutes,” she can’t help but add.