Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“So I can help you?”
At my tone, his teeth flash. White like a shark’s. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s a thing I’m not interested in.”
“Whether you believe it or not, Mitchell thinks he loves you. Either way, he’s not going to leave you alone.”
My stomach flips, but my reply is cool. “That’s not your concern.”
“Do you think he might be a narcissist? He certainly seems to lack empathy.”
“You’re giving him too much credit,” I snap. “He’s just another of the world’s rich, cheating assholes.”
“Money is the root of all evil? How Old Testament of you.”
“If the sandals fit.” I look him up, then down, but he doesn’t bite.
“Hasn’t he punished you enough?” He slides his hands into his pockets.
“There’s nothing more he can do to hurt me.”
“You underestimate him.”
“Because I don’t really know him?” I don’t give him time to answer. “I’m well acquainted with his type.” With your type, my gaze says as it flickers over him. He’d be my Jeopardy! specialist subject. I’ll take Rich Assholes for four hundred dollars.
“What about your visa? You’re no longer his fiancée. What if he makes that official? If he cancels it?”
“I’ll manage something.” Though my heart rate does a little skip at the thought.
“Help me, Eve,” he says, stepping closer. “Move in with me.”
“So you can be my fake visa fiancé?” I scoff, even as the hairs on the back of my neck begin to prickle. “That is such a terrible idea.” But then his hands are on my waist, and wildfire is rushing through my veins as he eases us into a shadowy alcove.
“Bad ideas seem to be our specialty. I might even make a better fake fiancé than the real one.” His lips are shockingly warm on my throat, my insides turning molten as he sucks at my skin.
“That wouldn’t be hard. The bar was set pretty low.”
He grunts. The sound reminds me of last night—of the sound he made as his body worked over me. “Say yes, Eve.”
“Careful.” I press my hand to his chest. “That sounded almost like a proposal.”
“Shall I propose all the things I’d like to do to you?” he purrs, staring down at me.
Yes. “No.” Both responses pulse inside me, my brain and my body at war. “I don’t even like you.”
He pulls my hips closer, the thick line of his cock pressed to my stomach. His body is so large and so hard, and he perfectly reads the hunger in mine as he holds me there, hard pressed to soft. His hand glides up my ribs, his thumb finding my nipple over the top of my T-shirt.
“Don’t you?”
He tugs, and I swallow back a whimper as a throb starts up between my legs.
“Doesn’t mean anything. It’s just biology.” And my brain cells disintegrating as he watches me.
“It’s chemistry.”
Is that why I sink into him like quicksand, the density of this thing greater than my will?
“You keep saying things I can’t trust.”
“Trust that I want you. Trust that my mouth would’ve worshipped you if you hadn’t crept out this morning.”
“Don’t sweet-talk me, Oliver. Not when I know you would’ve left me on the sidewalk.”
He pulls back, his gaze sliding over me, hot and heavy. “I lied. I lost my breath the moment I found you on top of me.”
“Sounds like you’re calling me fat.”
His blue eyes glint without generosity or humor as he slips his free hand under my hair, tugging back my head. “What part of perfectly formed don’t you comprehend?”
I gasp as much from his words as his hold. I hate how he seems to know exactly just what to say. Hate it as much as I love this push and pull.
“These fingers, this mouth. They would worship you.”
“In the quest to ruin him.” This is what I need to hang on to. His motivations, not the Oliver voodoo he works on me.
“Wouldn’t you like to be part of the fun?”
“I’m not vindictive.” Despite what that video says.
His dark laughter creates a rush of goose bumps along my arms. “You are such a lovely liar.” He lowers his mouth to mine, his kiss just as I’d tried not to remember it. Lips soft yet sure, tongue licking into my mouth as though it’s a source of deliciousness.
Whatever my plan was, he wasn’t supposed to sweep me away like this as my hands grip his biceps, the muscles flexing under my fingertips. I turn my head, and he makes a sound of approval, his mouth trailing across my jaw, making a path down my neck. His hand slips under the hem of my T-shirt, and I arch against him like a cat, my body turning hot and liquid as he exposes my nipple—here in the hallway of a restaurant.
“Come back with me, Eve.”
“No,” I whisper, swallowing over the thudding of my pulse.