Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“I’d rather stick my dick in an oven.”
“I’d love to watch that.”
“I bet you would. You’d sit there touching yourself, pretending you were half as hot.”
“God, you’re repulsive.”
“And you’re a chilly and stuck-up.”
“Don’t you have a liquor store to rob?”
“I only steal from bigger targets these days, but thanks for the suggestion.”
“Asshole.”
“Frigid princess.”
I glare at him and he glares at me, and we’re standing inches apart, extremely alone in the outside courtyard. His eyes are burning into mine like coals and my lips part slightly open as my heart races in my chest. I’ve been dancing with this man all night and I hate him so much, but I also distinctly remember the feeling of his hands on my hips and his body swaying close, skin touching skin, the heat and the rhythm building and driving us forward—
“You want to kiss me right now,” he whispers.
“I’d rather kiss dirt.”
“How about I want to kiss you.” My jaw drops and suddenly all my witty comebacks disappear. “No more bullshit, frigid princess,” he says softly.
And when he pulls me against him, his hand on the small of my back, I tilt my head and part my lips and let him kiss me nice and deep.
Yep, this is a mistake.
An absolutely massive mistake.
And yet Angelo is beautiful, I’m a little drunk, and I want to do something stupid for once in my life.
The kiss is heaven, a delicious and painful heaven. His tongue invades my mouth as he pins me against him, and he treats me like he wants to break me, kissing hard and rough with a soft growl in the back of his throat. I’m not the kind of woman to let a big bastard like this intimidate me, but a soft whimper escapes my lips—a noise I’ve never made before in my life. But Angelo brings this strange, warm softness out of me, and it’s like I want to yield to him and let him use me however he wants.
Just maybe, I’ll like it.
My whimper spurs him on. He moves me back until I stumble against the iron railing ringing around the patio courtyard, and the kiss deepens. His drink falls from his fingers and tumbles behind me into the grass, and I toss my champagne glass into the bushes and we wrap our bodies tighter, making sure there are no gaps between us as the kiss heats up and my desire blows a hole straight through my head.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I say as I pull back from him, trying to catch my breath, but his eyes tell me he’s already making his plans.
“There’s a room,” he says and grabs my hand. “Coming?”
“We shouldn’t.”
“I didn’t ask if we should. I asked if you’re coming.”
I stare into his eyes. This is my chance, my last chance.
I barely know this guy and everything’s telling me to turn around and run away.
But I’ve spent my life doing the right things, over and over again, ever since I was a little girl. I thought the rules were there for a reason, and if I followed them, I’d get everything I wanted.
Now I’m beginning to think the rules were made by those in charge to keep the suckers in line.
“I’m coming,” I whisper and he leads me around the side of the building.
This is stupid. This is so, so stupid, and yet I like the way he smells and the way he smiles and the way he laughs, and most of all I love the way he looks at me.
Like I’m the only thing worth looking at in this entire building.
I don’t do things like kiss handsome gangsters, especially not ones with filthy mouths. All my life I’ve been careful: no boyfriends, no mistakes. I worked hard to graduate top of my class, to get good grades in law school, and to land a highly coveted associate position at a prestigious law firm in Dallas. Everything’s been by the book, never deviating, never once letting myself do something potentially disastrous.
And now it’s like all those years of hard work and sacrifice, those late nights studying while my friends went out drinking, those missed dates and ignored messages on Tinder and a thousand different social opportunities I straight up pushed to the side, suddenly it’s all pouring out of me.
All that missed opportunity. All that risk not taken.
I want to do something dumb, if at least for only tonight.
He finds a side entrance and we head inside. The sounds of the kitchen echo down the hall. He stops outside an unmarked door, pushes it open, and snaps a light on.
“Romantic,” I say and stare around at a storage area. Bags of beans and rice, paper plates and utensils, things the kitchen would need stacked on big iron racks.
“Did you want romance, or did you want to feel something?” He steps close, pulls the door shut, and pins me there. I’m starting to think I should’ve run away when I had the chance. He’s looking at me like he wants to crack me in half. The hunger in his eyes is intoxicating and terrifying as he reaches past me and turns the lock with a sharp click. “Because I’m not interested in romance tonight.”