Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 164828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
I giggle and turn my back to him. His big arms wrap around me from behind.
“That better mean there’s chocolate in the fridge, Mercer,” I mutter as I put my head against his chest.
He chuckles and rests his chin on the top of my head. The elevator doors open and we make our way down the corridor. Nathan opens the door to my apartment and we walk in. I go straight to the kitchen, flick the kettle on, while he goes to the fridge to grab something, which he quickly puts behind his back.
“What have you got there?” I ask.
“Ah,” he teases. “What do I get for it?”
“If it’s chocolate… anything you want.”
“You really should play harder to get.” He raises an eyebrow and produces a box of my favorite chocolates.
I clap my hands together. “Where did these come from?”
“I bought them today when I got the champagne.” He opens the box and pops one into his mouth. “You want?” He holds one up for me. I open my mouth and he puts it in.
“Hmm.” I close my eyes at the rich creamy taste. “Delicious.”
His eyes darken as he watches me suck on it.
He takes his jacket off, undoes his bowtie and top few buttons. I make us a cup of tea and take another chocolate.
I watch him take off his shoes and then undo his belt and slowly slide it off.
My breath catches. Why am I noticing how masculine he suddenly is?
“So, what did you want?” I ask as I hand him his cup of tea. “For the chocolates.”
His eyes hold mine. “I want to get you out of that dress.”
I smile. “Well, you’re going to have to because I can’t reach the zipper.”
He chuckles and sits me up onto the counter in front of him. We both sip our tea, our eyes locked on each other.
Something is different but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Two years.” He smirks.
“Are you still thinking about that? Why? When was the last time you had sex?”
He steps forward, in between my legs, and his hands rest on my upper thighs. “A long time, too.”
I frown, surprised. “Why?”
His eyes hold mine. “I guess I’m waiting for Mrs. Right.”
I smile up at him. “Are you going to teach her bad things?” I tease.
“Fuck.” He pauses, his eyes drop to my lips. “I want to.”
My face falls.
Our eyes are locked, and you could cut the tension between us with a knife.
Wait, what? I was just teasing.
He pulls me closer on the counter toward him in a decidedly sexual manner.
I sip my tea, unsure what’s going on right now. “Don’t you mean… Mr. Right?” I whisper.
“Umm…yeah.” He takes my tea off me and puts it down on the counter. “Let’s get you out of that dress,” he whispers.
He lifts me off the counter and leads me into the bedroom. I feel close to him tonight; so close that it almost feels like…
He positions me before the full-length mirror in my bedroom. He stands behind me and then slowly slides the zipper down.
I watch him concentrate on his task, his eyes following the zipper. He slides one spaghetti strap off my shoulder, and then the other.
He bites his bottom lip as he slowly slides my dress down. It catches over my hips, and he uses his hands to work it loose.
This is nothing new. Nathan has seen me undress a million times before.
But this feels… sexual.
I stand before him in a white strapless bra and a G-string, with thigh-high nude stockings.
I watch him in the mirror as his eyes roam up and down my body, drinking me in.
I want to blurt out What the hell are you doing? but I don’t want to ruin the moment.
Whatever this moment is.
He stands closer and puts his hand on my stomach. We stare at each other in the mirror, and there’s an honesty between us.
Maybe it’s intimacy or maybe it’s just the champagne. At this point, anything is a possibility because none of this is making sense.
With his eyes locked on mine, he kisses my cheek with an open mouth.
My heart skips a beat.
He runs his fingers up my arms, and goosebumps scatter. “Nathan,” I whisper.
“Ssh,” he whispers, as if not wanting words to get in the way.
He lets me go and slowly unbuttons his shirt. I can see the ripples of his stomach muscles in the dimly lit room.
I feel arousal slam into my body like a freight train, slow, strong and measured.
Our eyes are locked in the mirror.
I turn toward him, and he picks up my hand and puts it onto his bare chest. It’s hot and hard under my touch. He rests his lips on my temple, and I close my eyes.
God, this is wrong.
Unable to stop myself, I slowly slide my hand over his torso, over the ripples, down lower to the small trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his pants.