Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“It is,” he says with a smile. “I like romance.” He takes a step closer and then another, sending his clove and leather smell through my head. “I think a lot of men do. They’re just too indoctrinated to admit it. But love stories are important.” He lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “I think we all want to live one. Even if we’re not brave enough to admit it.”
I fight the sigh rising in my chest.
God, this man is perfect. Almost…too perfect.
There has to be something wrong with him. If there isn’t, I’m not sure a mere mortal like myself is fit to be in his company, even if I am paying for the privilege.
“Tell me something embarrassing? About you?” I hear myself blurt out. I wince and smile as I explain, “Because so far, you seem like you have it all way too together.”
“Even after tripping on the way in?”
“But you recovered beautifully,” I counter. “It was very smooth.”
He inclines his head. “Well, thank you.” He exhales. “All right, something embarrassing…” His smile fades as he studies me with an intensity that further imperils my panties. “I can’t think of something offhand, but I want you to know… You don’t have to take this path if you don’t want to. You’re beautiful and intelligent and completely charming, Maya. I’m sure there are a hundred good men in this city who would be thrilled to take you on as many dates as you want, free of charge.”
I tell myself it’s a line he uses with all his clients.
I warn myself not to fall for it.
But in the end, I can’t help it. I believe him.
He just seems so sincere.
“But I don’t want a hundred other men,” I whisper. “I want you.”
It’s bold and ballsy and not at all like me, but I don’t regret the words for a second.
Especially when his gaze darkens and his voice comes out husky as he asks, “Are you sure?”
I nod, heart galloping as he eases even closer, until his body heat warms me through my dress and the look in his eyes makes my throat go tight.
“Don’t you think we should talk some more first?” He lifts a hand, brushing the hair from my forehead before letting his warm fingertips linger on my cheek, setting off tiny explosions of pleasure that make it even harder to breathe. “Or maybe something more than talk? I could be a terrible kisser.”
“You aren’t a terrible kisser,” I shoot back, not a trace of doubt in my tone.
His lips quirk as his arm slides around my waist. “I don’t think I am, but like so many things in life, kissing is subjective,” he murmurs, drawing me slowly closer.
Closer, closer, until the feel of my breasts flattening against his solid chest ignites a longing unlike anything I’ve felt in my entire life. I’m suddenly simmering, tingling, on fire from the soles of my feet to the tip of my nose, and so dizzy I’m pretty sure I would sag to the floor if his arm weren’t tight around me.
But it is, tight and strong, pinning me close as his mouth finds mine.
And then he kisses me, slow and easy, as his free hand glides up my bare back to fist in the hair at the nape of my neck. I cling to the front of his suit coat, meeting each stroke of his tongue with what I hope isn’t ridiculous enthusiasm, trying not to gasp as his other hand slips down to cup my ass.
He squeezes my curves as he pulls me closer, until I can feel the long hard length of him behind his fly.
He wants me. He really does!
This isn’t just a business arrangement. Or, if it is, it’s one it seems he’s going to enjoy.
Though I doubt he’ll enjoy it as much as I already am…
A small, hungry sound escapes my lips as I rock against his erection, my panties soaked. And then he growls low in his throat and lifts me into his arms, guiding my legs around his waist, and the integrity of my underwear is a thing of the past.
He presses me against the empty wall near the bar cart, angling his head as the kiss grows harder, deeper, causing the edges of our masks to press together. The reminder of how strange and forbidden all this is should bring me back to my senses, but it doesn’t.
I continue to cling to him like the last port in a storm as his lips blaze a path down my throat and his big hand cups my breast through my dress. His fingers tighten around my E cup, the curves that have always felt like too much fitting perfectly in his big hand, and the last of my doubt evaporates in the heat building between us.