Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“The washing service at the hotel is steep, so I take my clothes to this place.”
I couldn’t stop pitying her circumstances. I wanted to write her a fat check and make all of her problems go away. With anyone else, I wouldn’t give a damn. I wasn’t sure why I gave a damn about her. In my culture, beautiful women should always be taken care of. There should be a man to provide for her, to take care of her.
But she was all alone.
In reality, I was all she had.
“Have dinner with me.”
“Right now?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes.” The plans I had for the night seemed irrelevant now. I couldn’t care less about Carter and Club Lingerie.
“It seemed like you were going somewhere.”
“Doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s go.” My hand went to the small of her back, my favorite place to touch, and I guided her forward. My fingers automatically squeezed the fabric of her dress as I pictured her bare skin. I’d seen that gorgeous ass in many thongs, and now I wanted nothing more than to pull that thong down her beautiful legs.
And bury my cock in that gorgeous pussy.
“You never asked if I wanted to go.”
“You’re right.” I kept moving forward. “And I’m not going to.”
We arrived at a small café, a place I’d been to a few times for lunch. We were given a table on the patio where no one else was seated. The staff must have recognized me and wanted to give me my space.
Ten sat across from me with perfect posture. She must have taken my words to heart and held herself like people were constantly watching and judging. She didn’t wear makeup that evening, and her hair didn’t have the same volume as it did at the studio.
But I liked it.
It was just her and me. We weren’t working, just having dinner together. And I wanted to have dinner with the woman, not the model.
But I still wanted her as much as I had yesterday.
She looked at the menu then ran her fingers through her hair. She didn’t realize it, but she was naturally sexy without even trying. She bit her bottom lip when she was thinking, and the angles of her face looked perfect as the sun set in the distance. The blue dress she’d chosen was a perfect complement to her skin tone. When I photographed her for my lingerie line, maybe I would photograph her just like this—natural.
I didn’t look at my menu because I was more interested in looking at her.
When she felt my ongoing stare, she finally lifted her gaze to meet mine. Fearless and confident, she held my gaze. Not too many women could withstand my attention so securely. When she stood on that stage with the nine other models, she knew I was staring at her. Her gaze stayed on mine, but in response, she straightened and tightened, as if preparing for war. She wasn’t the kind of woman that backed down. But since she was so strong, why was she running?
Or did that mean she had a serious enemy?
She continued to stare at me. “I can do this as long as you can.”
“Good. I enjoy looking at you.” I rested my elbows on the table and leaned forward, getting a better look at her. “Your blue eyes…phenomenal. The way your cheeks curve…unique. Your plump lips look amazing with that smile. You have the kind of face a painter dreams of.” Everything from her eyebrows to her chin was beautiful. Every woman had beautiful characteristics that made them wonderful. But Ten had all of them. “And I haven’t even mentioned your body yet.”
“Are you saying this as an artist? Or a man?”
Art and sexuality were one and the same for me. “Both.”
The waiter approached our table, slicing through the intensity. Ten ordered, and I picked something at random off the menu. He brought two glasses of water along with a bottle of wine. Once the bottle was poured, we were alone again.
She sipped her wine then licked her lips. “That’s good.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
She swirled her glass before she looked at the label on the bottle. “Barsetti Vineyards…” Her eyes turned back to me, narrowing in interest. “You own a winery too?”
“No. My family does.”
“Your family?” she asked. “They live in Italy?”
“My parents are just outside of Florence. So are my aunt and uncle.”
“Oh…that’s nice. How far away is that?”
“A five-hour drive.”
“The wine is incredible. They must know what they’re doing.”
“My father started making wine almost forty years ago. It’s become a family business. We have wineries all over Tuscany now.”
“I probably would know that if I drank more wine. I’m more of a hard liquor kinda girl.”
And I liked that about her. “We acquire new tastes as we age…and travel.”
“Are you close with your family?”
I had no problem answering her questions, but I wanted something in return. “I’ll share my life with you. But I want you to share yours with me.”