Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 34938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
“Well, you should, you're good at it.” His eyes drift down my body, devouring every curve along the way. Biting down on his bottom lip, he lets his gaze slowly lick back up.
Is he flirting with me?
Pushing the couch for me, he centers it with the throw rug I’d rearranged, so it faces the double sliding doors. “Here?”
I'm lost for a second, unable to latch on to any thoughts or words. He definitely just flirted with me. Right?
“Uh, yeah, that's perfect,” I finally get out.
“It really is.” But Kent isn't looking at the ocean, or the furniture, or the paintings on the walls. He's looking at me.
My belly erupts with a million tornadoes, all of them turning my stomach upside down. The hair on my arms bristles, sending tingles up my arms and across my chest.
“I uh, I should go,” I say quickly, taking a few steps toward the door. “I'll let you get settled, and if you need anything, I put my number on the notepad for you.”
“Where are you staying?” he asks. “You're not heading home from here are you? It's a two hour drive.”
“Oh, no, I'm staying in another rental my dad has. It's the condo up on River Street.” I'm still walking backwards, trying to escape whatever is happening to my body.
This is Kent. My father's friend, his business partner. Everything that is happening to me is wrong. He's twice my age, he's too close to my family to have these feelings, he's off limits. . .
Right?
Kent starts to move toward me, but all I really want to do is to leave. The closer he gets, the dirtier the thoughts are that run through my head. Thoughts that shouldn't be here. Thoughts that shouldn't be for him.
“So we’re all set,” I say, giving him a light wave. “I'll see you later, enjoy your night. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“I will.” His tone is smooth, confident. “Same goes for you, too.” He gives me a light wink, and a half smile.
Turning, I swiftly walk to my car and start the engine before I even have my door closed all the way.
These feelings, these thoughts, they're freaking me out. The drive to the condo is only ten minutes, but it feels like an eternity as confused thoughts race through my mind. Once I arrive at my temporary home, I'm happy to shut the door behind me. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding in.
I can still feel his eyes on my body. Those bright, blue, incredible eyes that sizzle on my skin. Dropping onto the couch, I lay my head back and close my eyes. But he's still there. I can't escape Kent.
His smile, his lips, the sharp angles of his jaw. The way his chest flexed as he moved, and his arms thickened with hard muscles. Even his salt and pepper hair, and his five o'clock shadow turn me on.
I've always had a thing for older men. But this isn't fair, he's my father's partner and friend. The taboo feeling of it being wrong is hard to ignore, but my body is resisting the rational.
My vag is pulsing, my nipples are beading, all because this man is in my head. “All right,” I say out loud, opening my eyes wide and standing up. “I need a glass of wine.”
Grabbing a bottle out of the rack next to the stove, I fill a glass, and head back to the couch. My phone pings, and I lift it off the table. Opening the screen, I see a message from a number I don't recognize.
'Did you make it home okay?'
It's Kent.
My thumb hovers over the buttons, and a small smile teases my lips. 'Yeah, I'm home.'
'Good, I'm enjoying the view from the couch. You really improved the place.'
My smile broadens, pleased that he's thinking about me. There's a thrill with this thought, knowing I'm on his mind, that he's sitting on the couch and I'm in his head.
'I'm glad you like it.' I text back. My heart thuds faster, and my veins ignite as I see the small circles rotating on my screen.
He's writing back, and the anticipation is making me giddy. Curling my feet up, I tuck them under each other, and snuggle deeper into the couch. I'm staring at the screen, anxiously waiting to see what he writes next.
'Will I see you tomorrow?'
'Yes, I'll be around.'
'It's a date then.'
'No, not a date. I have work to do.' Luckily he can’t see the smile on my face which belies that I am not thinking about work. I love the idea of a date, but obviously it isn't happening.
'Right, that's what I said. A date.'
Grinning, I fire back. ‘Okay, if it's a date, what are you planning?'
The idea is exciting, even if he's only joking. Obviously he doesn't really want to take me on a date. It's ridiculous for me to even think there's any truth to this little game he's playing.