Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Yeah? What’s your compromise?”
“If you want to come to the club and scene, you call me. I’ll be your dom for the night. But we don’t kiss, and we definitely don’t fuck.”
She huffs out a breath and rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are a little pink.
“I’ll think about it,” she says.
The cab pulls to a stop outside a tall building with mirrored windows. “Your place?” I ask.
She nods and hesitates.
I want to leave with her. Go upstairs. Jesus, I want to. But I don’t trust myself. And I know she needs distance from me. Still, I have to see her in safely.
“I’ll take you in to make sure you’re safe, but then I have to head home myself.”
She starts to hand money to the driver, but I pull it back and pay him myself.
We exit the cab. I want to take her hand but there’s this air between us, a wall I can’t take down, not yet. She’s angry at me and she has a right to be. I took advantage today. I did it under the guise of giving her what she needed, but I know better.
“Nice place,” I say.
Jesus. Lame.
I shove my hands in my pockets as we ride the elevator to the fifth floor.
“Thank you,” she says absentmindedly. “My mom would lose her mind.”
She would. She always wanted her daughter to live in opulence, unscathed by the common people.
“She would, but that doesn’t matter.” I ignore how she relaxes a little when I say that, like she needed permission to not give a shit. “How long have you been here?” The elevator swoops upward.
“A year. Where do you live?”
“I have a one-bedroom apartment not far from Verge,” I tell her. “Takes fifteen minutes by taxi, but it’s not far from the repair shop and I spend most nights in the private room anyway.”
“It’s like your bunker.”
“You could say that.”
“Tell me about the shop?”
We talk about our jobs for a minute, but then we’re at her floor.
“So I’m… okay now,” she says. “You can go now… Axle.”
I don’t want to leave her. There’s a tugging in my gut that tells me to stay, that she needs me tonight. I put her through hell today, and I don’t like leaving her alone. I’ve split her open and now I’m leaving her, raw and exposed.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask. “We went through a lot today.”
She blinks and looks away. “I’m good,” she says to her shoes. “I want to get some sleep tonight. I have work early tomorrow morning.”
I nod. I have to respect that she hasn’t invited me in, and she wants some time to herself. What the hell’s wrong with me? I went seven years without seeing her and now the thought of one night makes me clench my fists.
She opens her door and stands tentatively in the doorway. “Good night,” she says. This is wrong. God, this is so damn wrong.
Fuck this.
I lean in, grab a fistful of her thick, fragrant hair, and yank her head back. When her mouth falls open I capture it with a kiss that tells her that I don’t care if seven minutes or seven years has passed, I own this mouth. Her palm is pressed up against my chest. She doesn’t push me away but fists my shirt, clenching it between taut fingers. When she has a good, firm grip, she tugs me closer to her.
Hell no.
Without thinking, I wrap my hand around her wrists, removing her grip on me, and backpedal her until she’s flush against the doorframe. I pin both arms to her sides and glide my tongue against hers, a silent command to surrender. She melts against me and submits to my mouth.
She’ll submit to all of me.
In time.
She leans in for more, my cue to pull apart and leave her with the memory of what she wants.
“Sleep well,” I whisper in her ear. Her cheeks are flushed, her pupils dilated, and it takes all my self-control to walk away from her and not push her back into that apartment and claim her hard and fast up against the door.
I will.
She nods, then turns away, shutting the door behind her. I wait until I hear the click of locks fastening before I leave, and then I remember.
I don’t even have her cell phone number. God.
Guess I’ll be paying a visit to Marla’s bright and early tomorrow morning.
I wake up the next morning early, with Chandra on my mind, so fucking hard I throw the sheets down and hit the shower before I can lay in bed and dwell. I’m too much of the good Catholic boy to rub one off in the shower. It’s a point of pride with me. I’m stronger than my most base urges, and I don’t fuck around. I welcome the discomfort so I can stay focused.