Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“You can’t,” he announces, taking a sip of whatever brown liquid he’s chosen. I smile and grab my small clutch, marching into the bathroom. I flip on the light and almost scream at the reflection that stares back at me.
“Jesus.” I reach for a Kleenex to rub the mascara off from under my left eye. My lipstick is smeared all the way up to my nose, making me look like a clown. I take a breath and start to repair myself.
Jesus, my hands are slightly shaking as I quickly reapply everything. I take a step back and look at myself. I don’t even need blush since I’m completely flushed and was already going for smoky eyes. I’m actually shocked at how good I look. A little red lipstick and boom.
Spinning around, I grab a bunch of tissues to clean myself up as much as I can, almost moaning as I touch the vibrator. Then I toss the wad into the dark wicker trash basket and straighten my dress.
I take another deep breath and walk out, forcing one foot in front of the other.
He must have made a deal with the devil; no one can be this beautiful otherwise. My breath stutters as my eyes take in his tan skin, beautiful dark hair looking more so with that starched white shirt. He’s removed his tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons, allowing me to see his neck. With that black suit jacket, he just screams danger and power.
“You look exquisite, Raven.” His voice sounds deep and gravelly, causing a shiver of excitement as he holds out his hand for me to join him. Unlike the first time we met, this time I take it.
Swallowing back a gasp, a jolt like liquid heat zings into my hand—it’s like I’ve been injected just by holding his hand. He walks us out of his lavish office and into the elevator.
We don’t talk.
I barely breathe.
When his hand squeezes mine, I look up at him, admiring his profile, which is as perfect as his full face.
And suddenly, I understand his note. The ding of the elevator distracts me. He guides us to the waiting Mercedes.
“Careful when you sit.” His voice is warm, and he watches me slowly slide in. I cross my legs, and he moves next to me, a knowing grin on his full lips.
“Thanks, Iain.” He settles back and the car moves smoothly forward.
I lick my lips. “I guess this”—I look down, then over at him—“is what your note meant this morning?” The car is dark, but the lights from the city still allow me to see part of his face.
“What are you studying?” I blink at him. Did he just completely ignore my comment and ask me what I’m studying?
The car is quiet, save for the driver putting the blinker signal on.
Clearing my throat, I turn slightly, so I can see his face better. “I haven’t decided, but I’m leaning toward environmental law.”
“Really?” By the tone of his voice, he sounds genuinely interested, which throws me. I was expecting him to laugh. No one, not even Cher, really cares about my interest in law.
“Yes, I find it fascinating, and with everything going on, I think the world needs people like me.” I cock my head at him, waiting to see that famous smirk.
Instead, he says, “Agreed. You’ll be brilliant.” His gaze holds mine. He leans back. “You’re at Columbia, right?”
What the? I recross my legs and try to focus on the fact that he is done playing, and now we are having a polite conversation.
“No. I’m at NYU.”
There’s the famous smirk I was waiting for. “So you’re not really serious about the law?” He looks out the window, and for a second, it’s as though I’m a disciplined child who feels shame that Daddy doesn’t approve. Which is absurd and fucked. Granted, NYU might not be Ivy League, but it’s an excellent school.
“Excuse me?” I snap.
“Why NYU? It’s average, at best. Your mother has the connections and money to get your foot into a much better college.”
“That’s exactly why. I try to avoid her help on most things.” My face heats up.
He turns his head and looks at me, then back out the window. “Well, good for you.” His tone is dismissive, and I visualize kicking him again, or at the very least, taking this vibrator out since it seems he’s forgotten about it.
“You want me to drop you off at the front, Mr. Powers?” The driver breaks into my thoughts as I look out the window at the large crowd milling around what looks like a gallery.
“Yeah, I’ll text you when we’re ready.” The car pulls over, and a valet runs over and opens the door. Jett steps out, but doesn’t hold out his hand for me. Simply waits for me to slide out. I’m two seconds from leaning over to tell Iain to take me home when I feel it: a light vibration on my clit and up on my G-spot as I dig my nails into the leather seat.