Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Why are you over there?” he demands, and proceeds to move my direction.
I hold up a hand, then a finger. “Wait. I’m pissed at you, and we both know there are cameras in these elevators. I don’t want either of us to be fodder for the press.”
His chin lowers, eyes burning into mine. “Alana,” he says softly.
“Don’t say my name like you’re scolding me, Damion. I’m not your employee. Or maybe I am.” I lift my hand with the ring.
“Employee,” he repeats, his tone sharp with anger. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“That’s what I want to say to you right now, but since this video could be played on TMZ, minus volume, and our body language analyzed, I’m not.”
“You think they can’t read us right now? Come over here and make nice for the camera.”
“I’ll stand next to you but do not touch me or I will not be responsible for my actions.”
His lips hint at amusement, I dare him to make more obvious, but he gives me a nod. We move at the same time, stepping close and rotating to face the front of the elevator. I wait for him to touch me, to push me, like he did with Noah, and if he does, if he disrespects my wishes, it will be the end of this night. But he doesn’t. Really, he doesn’t get the chance. The doors open almost instantly, and I step into the hallway, pausing to wait on him.
He joins, six foot two inches of sexy, arrogant man, and for a moment we just stand there and stare at each other, a push and pull between us that is blazing physical attraction pumped up by a punch of white lightning anger. He draws in a breath, and motions with his head toward his apartment. I give a barely-there nod and in unison, we walk toward his door, the air charged around us. There’s an explosion coming of epic proportions, and the only chance I have of winning this battle is by keeping my clothes on. Because if we end up naked, he is absolutely on top.
And we both know it.
Chapter seven
Damion unlocks his door but doesn’t open it, and before I know his intention, he pulls me in front of him, forcing me to catch my weight on my hands, and the door. I’m officially caged between it and the man who’d I’d call my biggest temptation, and at present, the source of my ire. Not exactly the way to maintain my control, especially when his powerful thighs and hips frame my backside, one of his palms pressed to my waist, the other over my head, on the wooden surface.
“I’m crazy about you,” he murmurs, his lips near my ear, his breath tantalizingly warm, lips brushing my neck.
My knees are weak, and my body is one big nerve ending that is alive and charged.
“You treated me like an employee,” I hiss.
He turns me to face him, his eyes glistening with his own anger now. “I treated you like the woman I want in my life.”
My lashes lower and my lips tremble, and I fight all the things I want to say to him, that only make me look as foolish as I have often felt with Damion. But I can’t hold it all back…I just can’t. When I look at him again, I say, “For how long this time?”
“There’s never been a time in my life that I didn’t want you with me.”
“And yet, there’s been so much of it you made sure we spent apart.”
“It’s not like that, Alana.” He caresses hair from my face. “You—”
Voices sound behind us and he curses, his arm wrapping my waist to steady me before he opens the door. “Let’s go inside,” he says softly, and I don’t fight him. I twist around and away from him, away from the intimacy of his touch that makes me as wet as it does dumb.
By the time I’ve rotated to face him, he’s shut the door and he’s standing closer than I’d like, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Alana—”
“What was that down there?” I demand, my finger pointing at the ground.
“I was removing any thought you had that I didn’t really want you to move in with me.”
“I didn’t have that thought,” I say, when I want to confront him about the way he plays with my emotions. Giving me the ring and telling me it was bought for me, but that he’d changed his mind about coming home to get me. Now it’s mine, but it means nothing. It’s a callous thing to do for personal gain. It’s almost cruel. But if I say that, I seem like a pathetic girl in love with the rich boy next door who is still too good for her. “This wasn’t about me thinking you didn’t want me, Damion. That—what you did—was manipulation, which feels a whole lot like a family trait.”