Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I snatch it from under the door. He’ll probably think Simon got a hold of it, but then I look at his photo and can’t stop the laugh that escapes my mouth.
“It’s been seven minutes, Whitney,” he says from the other side of the door. After grabbing my purse and opening the door, my smile still spreads the entire width of my face.
He has his hand in front of him, a silent demand for me to return it, but he’s grinning too. “May I have that back?”
“Can I make a copy of it first?” I hold the plastic card behind my back, knowing if he wants it bad enough, all he has to do is command I give it to him.
“I have much better pictures. You may have copies of those.” He takes a step closer and after shutting my apartment door, I press my back against it. My arms remain behind me, and his eyes flare with interest. It’s an offer of vulnerability on my part, and he takes notice.
“How long have you had your braces off?”
His lip twitches with mirth not in anger, but he doesn’t answer.
“You’re not a donor,” I whisper as he grows even closer.
I can feel the heat of his body, and it’s enough to make me suggest that we skip dinner and head right back into my apartment.
“I read online that you’re more likely to die if you’re a donor.” He’s saying some really creepy stuff, but it doesn’t stop my body from responding to his proximity. “That they will let you die to save many others rather than waste energy to save you.”
“Really?” I manage to pant as his arms slide around my back.
“Yeah. Really.”
“Oh.” His nose traces the column of my neck, and I’m to the point of offering up a kidney for the briefest of kisses.
“Now,” he says taking a step back, “let’s go have dinner.”
I blink up at him to find him putting his license back into his wallet, unsure of when he even slid it out of my hands. I hate that I missed cataloging his touch.
“Dinner?”
He chuckles, the low, husky tone sliding over me, beginning to turn my need into desperation.
“Yes, dinner, Whitney. I can’t make all of your sexual fantasies come true on an empty stomach.”
“I have snacks inside. Protein bars. Gatorade, so we don’t get dehydrated.”
I bite my lip with my brazen response, praying my cheeks aren’t as red as the heat I can feel coming from them.
He grins even wider. “In due time, my peach. Let’s go.”
His hand is hot and huge on my back as he presses it against my lower spine as he directs us to the elevator. This man has loads of restraint, and that’s going to be a trait he’ll need once we get down to it. Even still, I don’t know if he’s going to be able to get past all my hang-ups.
Wren doesn’t pull his arm from behind my back as we ride the elevator down, keeping me close to his side all the way out of the building.
“A chauffeured car? Call me surprised,” I say as a man in a tux opens the back door of a town car.
“A favor from a friend,” he responds, urging me into the backseat. “I wanted to be able to give you my undivided attention.”
“I like when your eyes are on me,” I confess as he settles in beside me.
“I don’t plan to take them off you for a single second tonight.” His heated gaze travels from the tips of my sandaled feet to where my legs are crossed.
I tug my dress down a few inches just to be a tease, knowing full well if he told me to open my legs while the driver takes us to wherever we’re going, I would happily oblige.
***
“Open,” Wren whispers as he holds a piece of sushi to my lips.
“I like—” I swallow thickly before lowering my voice. “Doing what you ask, but raw fish isn’t my thing.”
“Have you had sushi before?”
I shake my head as he pulls the sashimi away, placing it back on the plate between us.
“No.”
“Then how do you know if you like it?”
A quick grin fills my features.
“I guess I don’t, but the thought of eating raw anything…” I shudder for effect.
“Close your eyes,” he urges.
My lashes flutter closed a second later.
I’m a woman of habit. Hell, it took two weeks before I’d try the Nacho Fries at Taco Bell, knowing I loved everything else they had to offer on the menu.
The thought of slimy fish gliding down my throat doesn’t exactly make me gag, but it’s close. On instinct, my head snaps back when I feel a soft brush against my lips.
“Easy,” he purrs.
It’s not sushi touching my mouth, I realize, but his thumb. It traces my lower lip before running gently over my cupid’s bow.