Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“You look beautiful,” I say, and I allow my desire for this woman to radiate in the deep rasp of my voice. “You are beautiful.”
To my surprise, her cheeks flush red, shyness in the lowering of her lashes, as she says, “Thank you,” and once again proves she’s a contradiction, a beautiful, complicated fucking contradiction that I have to understand. But I’m adding another level of complication of my own that I want to understand.
I take the bottom step, leaving only two between us, and offer her my hand. She looks at it and then me, and when those green eyes lock on mine, the connection delivers a punch to my chest. I’d revel in how alive this woman makes me feel, in how much I want to fuck her, if I didn’t think there was a 90 percent chance that she’s a blackmailer and a killer, but the facts are clear. Her chin lifts defiantly, but she offers me submission, settling her palm on mine, her eyes flickering with the contact. My cock twitching with the contact. Her hand slides against mine, delicate and small, and I close mine around hers.
“Free will,” I say. “Exactly what I wanted from you.”
“I didn’t want to make a scene,” she counters, allowing me to walk her down the stairs to stand at the side of the stage.
“That’s a coy response,” I say, daring to settle my hand on her slender waist, pleased when her hand settles on my arm rather than pushing me away. “It’s beneath you,” I accuse.
“You’re right,” she surprises me by saying. “It was coy, and I don’t do coy. You’re touching me because I let you.”
“That’s true,” I say. “You are letting me. Why?”
“Because you touching me is better than you not touching me.”
Heat courses through my veins, perhaps because I’m playing a dangerous game with a beautiful woman who might just kill me, too. Or perhaps simply because I want Faith Winter in a way I don’t remember wanting anyone in a very long time.
“How are you even here?” she asks. “The tickets were sold out.”
“I know Chris Merit.”
“Of course you do.”
I arch a brow. “What does that mean?”
“You seem to know everyone, or they know you.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“It’s not.”
And yet, I can almost hear that wall of hers slam down between us. I step closer to her, my free hand settling on her waist as well. “What just happened?”
“Nothing that matters.”
“And if I think it does?”
“Then I’ll rephrase. Nothing that I plan on explaining.”
“I don’t like secrets.”
“It’s not a secret just because someone doesn’t choose to share it with you,” she says. “It’s simply that person’s right to privacy. Besides. You want me naked. That doesn’t require deep conversation.”
“I didn’t say I wanted you naked,” I counter. “I said I want you stripped bare and not just exposed. Willingly exposed. The two are vastly different.”
“And what exactly do you expect to expose?” she replies.
I lower my head, my cheek near hers but not touching. “All of you,” I say, lingering there, letting my breath trickle warmly on her cheek and ear.
“We’ll see,” she says, her hands settling on my chest as if she means to push me away or pull me close, but before she can do either, we hear a male voice say, “Faith.”
At the sound of her name from behind and to the right, my jaw clenches and Faith jolts, her hands falling away from me. In unison, Faith and I rotate to face our intruder, my hand settling possessively at her lower back, reminding her—and anyone else that might hope otherwise—that I’m here to stay tonight.
“Josh,” Faith says, greeting the tall, dark-haired man I recognize from my research as her agent, Josh Miller. Age thirty-eight, bank account status—not as rich as me, but rich enough to declare his success.
“You did wonderfully during your introduction,” he says, glancing at me and back at her before he adds, “but you need to mingle with the masses.”
“This is Nick Rogers,” she says, as if he’s nudged for an introduction I suspect he’d rather not have at all. “He owns a law firm in San Francisco.”
“I know that name well,” he says, looking at me. “You represented our top football player when he sued us to get out of his contract with our sports division.”
“Who was that?” Faith asks.
“Connor Givens,” I say. “Damn good quarterback.”
“And what happened?” Faith asks.
“He left the agency,” I say. “We won.”
“And we lost,” Josh says, flicking a look between Faith and myself. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“It’s business,” I say. “Like Faith is to you.” There’s a message in those words. I know he wants to fuck her, or he wouldn’t have had his hands all over her when they entered the gallery tonight.
Josh narrows his eyes on me. “Business I take seriously,” he says, an obvious warning in those words that he’d have been better off not delivering. He’ll discover that soon, but now, now he dares to give me a two-second stare before cutting his gaze to Faith. “Let’s mingle.”