Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Annie grins and holds up her hand. “T-minus five minutes!”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath as we wait for the clock to strike eleven a.m. and the shop to go live. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. We’ll sell a handful of orders today.”
“Either way, we’re celebrating!” Annie holds up the bottle of Dom Pérignon Henry brought, already chilling in a bucket. Zaheera is on her way.
“Seriously, Henry, you don’t need to stay. Today is going to be anticlimactic.” Unless I drown myself in a vat of coconut oil.
He cocks his head and gives me an odd look. “Excuse us for a moment, please, Annie.” Roping an arm around my waist, he herds me into my office, pushing my desk chair back and pulling the door shut behind him.
I know what this is about. Henry is attracted to confidence and right now I am displaying anything but that.
I look up to find him scowling down at me from mere inches away, our chests pressed against each other because there’s no room to maneuver in here. “I know! My soaps are amazing and everyone who tries them loves them. Nailed It is the best at what they do. Margo has been talking me up to everyone she knows like some crazy soap pusher. I know all that!” I throw my hands up in surrender. “I guess I’m just trying to protect myself from disappointment. After this weekend, I don’t know what to expect, and it’s left me on edge.”
Annie posted the picture Violet took with a caption that read, “The one and only love of my life. Can’t wait to marry you” and then restricted the comments. It seems to have helped cauterize the flow of online hate messages, though we’ve seen a few comments dropped on old posts of this all being a publicity stunt for my product launch. That made me laugh. As if I need or want this kind of attention to help sell a few bars of soap when I’m marrying one of the richest men in the country.
Henry looms, his blue eyes searching mine.
I can’t take it anymore. “Would you please say something?”
“Your office is in a closet.”
I burst into giggles. “I know. I told you that already.”
“I remember. I didn’t fully appreciate that until now. But that’s fine. I can make it work.”
“For wha—”
His mouth is on mine before I finish my sentence, our lips meshed as a hand coils around my hair. He tugs it, forcing my head back. “No matter how today goes, you should be proud of yourself,” he whispers against my lips, using his free hand to move my laptop out of the way before he urges me onto my desk. “I’m proud of you.”
I match his tongue stroke for stroke, my hands clawing to gain access beneath his shirt, reveling in the smooth, taut skin over his muscles. But it’s his words that pour through me like warmed honey, soothing the anxiety that’s plagued me for days. “You’re proud of your insecure, stupid little girl?” I tease, quoting something he said long ago.
He inhales sharply. “I’ve never thought that about you, Abbi.”
“But you said—”
“And I regret it.” I tip my head back as Henry’s lips land on my neck, his teeth scraping deliciously across my skin. “I’ve always regretted saying that,” he whispers into my ear.
But maybe it was true. I wouldn’t call myself stupid, but I was certainly insecure, allowing other people to choose my life’s path. Mama … Jed … And then Henry came along and bulldozed everything, pulled me out of any comfort zone I’ve ever known, made me question what I want.
His hands slide along the contours of my body, down to my hips. Seizing the waistband of my leggings and my panties, he wriggles them down to my ankles, where they’re stopped by my hiking boots.
“You have to untie them.”
“We don’t have time for that.”
I let out a squeal as Henry bends and forces his body through the space between my thighs, leaving my pants hooked around the back of his head and my ankles resting on his shoulders.
“This is tight.” I laugh, falling back against the wallpapered wall, my body folded in half.
“Just how I like it.” Henry fumbles with his buckle and zipper. In seconds he has his pants shoved down and he’s prodding my entrance with the blunt head of his cock. “Always ready for me.”
“These walls are thin—” My warning stalls on a scream as Henry thrusts into me with force.
“These walls are thin, Abbi,” Henry mocks, punctuates his words with his hips.
I can’t bite back another cry fast enough. “Henry, my assistant is right out—” My words are lost as Henry plunders my mouth with his tongue, my body nearly folded in half.
And then he slams into me again. And again, his beautiful arms bracing himself on either side of my shoulders as he drives into me at a relentless pace, his thighs slapping against mine, my little desk thumping against the wall as steadily and tellingly as a headboard. He’s so deep at this angle, and each time he sinks in, a groan slips out of me, the mixture of pleasure and pain overwhelming.