Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“Did you have a nice weekend, Nova?”
I did. But the first thing that comes out of my mouth isn’t that admission. “Why do you call me Nova when you made such a big deal about changing my last name to Ryan when I came here?”
He steps into my office, grabs a rolling stool from under a table, and then rolls over to me. “What are you working on?”
Deflection. Interesting.
I bought into this surname thing in the beginning, but that vague explanation doesn’t really fit. I’m not sure it even matters. But it’s curious.
It’s even more curious when he chooses to change the subject every time I bring it up.
“Case number B-1970. Female. Thirty years old. Chose vacation, not fantasy. My first woman in this study so far.”
“Find any differences?”
“Well, aside from her unusual vacation, not really. The pathways are slightly different. And I guess, maybe—I’m still early in this case—but I’m starting to see a small pattern that the connections are deeper.”
“Does this matter?”
I shrug. “It’s your study, Mercer. I’m just the hired help.”
He puts his hand on my arm and it’s warm. But not warm enough to justify the immediate sensation of heat that begins coursing through my body. That’s something else. “Would you like to have lunch in my office with me?”
Lunch in his office.
Hmm. What could he possibly mean by that?
I stare at my screen so he can’t see my smile. “Sure. What time is it?”
“Lunchtime.”
“Oh.” I make a mistake and look at him. Fuck’s sake. This man. He’s… intoxicatingly handsome. And now that I know he’s got this delicious dark side, I’m infatuated. I couldn’t sleep last night. I was so wound up. I ran the weekend over and over in my head, reliving certain moments. The way Mercer kissed Locke. Wow. That was good. The two of them—and me? Yeah. I could do that again.
In fact, I hope we do.
“So now?” I say.
“Right now.” Mercer stands up and offers me his hand. Sometimes he’s such a gentleman.
No. That’s actually not correct. He’s always a gentleman. Even when he’s being sexual. He’s slow, and methodical, and strong.
I take his hand and stand up. Then he places his fingertips at the small of my back and guides me out the door, down the hall, and into his office.
He closes the door behind us.
I notice several things at once.
One. His suit coat is on the floor in front of the couch.
Two. The leather ottoman is no longer in front of the couch, but off to the side.
And three. There is a tray of food on the ottoman. A tiny dish holding exactly three strawberries. A tiny dish holding two peach slices. And a tiny dish of pudding, or possibly custard.
Once again, his fingertips are pressing ever so slightly into the small of my back. I’m wearing a tank top, so his touch—when he presses just a bit harder—is quite noticeable.
He eases past me, takes a seat on the leather couch, opens his legs, and points to the jacket. “Have a seat, Nova.”
Am I going to do this?
There is no doubt in my mind that part of the reason he took me to Boston was to start this. This, meaning… I’m actually not sure what ‘this’ is.
Well, that’s only partially true. Maybe I don’t have the details of what ‘this’ is, but I have the general idea. Dark men like dark things. And this is most certainly the beginning of his dark thing.
“Nova.”
“Yeah,” I sigh.
“You’re hesitating.”
“I am.”
“Would you like to tell me why?”
I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. “I don’t know what this is, but I’m interested in finding out.” His smile is miniscule. Almost undetectable. Perhaps it’s nothing more than a twitch. But this isn’t my first time with a dark man. “So I’m going to go along with it. But I want a promise.”
“Yes.”
“What? I didn’t ask you for anything yet.”
“You don’t need to ask. You want to know that in the end you will be safe.”
“Yes.”
“And my answer is you will. Now come over here and sit down on the floor.” I open my mouth to say something else, but he puts up a hand. “No.” This is a very firm no. Not loud, not angry. Just very firm. “You want to know what I’m going to do. You want to know what comes next. You want to know where this is headed. And my answer to every one of those requests is no. No. You will understand when I want you to understand, not before.”
“Is this some kind of test?”
He laughs. “Test? Am I educating you, Nova?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m not. And you know what this is. You have done it before.”
“How do you know?”
“Am I the first then? Was Locke the first stranger you ever jerked off in the woods? Was Olsen your first threesome?”