Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 55744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Angie Ross looked to be only a couple of years older than Courtney, if that, and she was truly exquisite, if one looked beyond the radical cosmetics she wore. She was different from Damian's usual choice of woman, having pale skin accentuated by black hair and dramatic make-up. The way the woman was dressed and made-up seemed to be camouflage, as if she was hiding from the world, or maybe she was just hiding her true personality from Damian. Who knew? But as Courtney continued to surreptitiously watch her, the other woman seemed to be out of her element, lost within a group of people she wasn't comfortable with. Courtney couldn't fail to notice the slight trembling of the other girl's body as if she wanted nothing more than to bolt from the scene and she felt a bit sorry for her because of the situation the poor girl had been thrown into. With a mind to escape from where she now stood and go speak to the girl and make her feel more comfortable, Courtney was about to make the move to excuse herself when inexplicably, a tantalizing sensation ran down her spine.
Abruptly, with no explanation at all, a provocative shiver prickled along Courtney's skin as she felt someone come up directly behind her. She sucked in oxygen as she felt heat on her neck and steel muscles at her back. A heady scent washed over her and invaded her senses. Only one man carried that amazing scent.
But he was supposed to be out of town.
As soon as she'd had the thought, rough, masculine fingers enclosed her wrist in a grip that she absolutely knew couldn't be broken. Not that she had any intention of trying to break it. Heat, immediate and all encompassing, ran down her spine and she had to cut off a whimper as sensation rippled through her.
Nick.
God. Nick.
His fingers around her wrist were meant to communicate his possession, holding her tightly, just short of pain. She was hit with inconsistent emotions; she felt both defenseless and powerful as she exhaled a shallow pant and stayed perfectly still and waited for his next move. Moisture bloomed and dampened her panties as she was flooded with sexual heat. Her stomach clenched in need as he held her imprisoned by a single large hand encircling the smaller bones of her wrist. His thumb rasped across her pulse point as she felt his sinewy muscles surrounding her from behind.
His mouth left her neck and roamed to her ear and she felt the dangerous sizzle of his dominant force as he hissed, "Not one sound."
Her stomach clenched with need as he pulled her backwards, and within seconds he'd plucked her away from the crowd and escorted her from the room entirely. He stalled their footsteps in the darkened hallway that led to the kitchen and maneuvered her against the wall. The fingers of one hand sank into her hair and the other landed on her chin and lifted until she was forced to look into his eyes. Red tinged his cheekbones and his jaw clenched tightly as he thoroughly checked her out. His eyes ran over her face, studying her lips, her eyes, and her hair for a few seconds before saying abruptly, "Let's go."
She swallowed hard and tried to gain some control over her emotions. "Go . . . where?"
His mouth flattened at her question. "I haven't seen you in almost a month. Where do you think? Out of here. Back to the penthouse. Where's your purse?"
"I can't leave right now," she whispered frantically.
His eyes narrowed and his lips grew taut with implacability. "Oh, I think you can," he stated with a precision that had her tummy clenching.
As his measured gaze stayed hot on hers with unbending demand, her heartbeat raced and she felt a fine trembling invade her legs. "Dinner . . . dinner hasn't been served yet. Everyone will notice I'm missing."
A harsh, brooding look came over his features, but instead of a verbal rebuke, he began shaking his head back and forth with slow, inflexible authority, not about to be denied.
She opened her mouth to dispute. "Nick--"
With a lightning-quick move, his hand whipped up from around her chin and landed on her mouth, cutting off any words she'd meant to utter. She sucked in a breath through her nose as her pulse began beating wildly behind her breastbone. She felt her eyes flare as he came closer, intent on invading the little space that was left between them. "You have two choices, sweetheart," he announced definitively. "We can leave and go to the penthouse, or I'm going to pick you up right now and carry you upstairs to your bed." His eyes stared down with a feral gleam and he added, "The same bed that was mine before it became yours. You know how many times I fantasized about you sleeping in my old bedroom?"