Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
I grip the edge of the curtain and pull it open aggressively, narrowing my eyes as I stare at him sitting in the plush chair across from me. He’s leaning back, his big body in a relaxed pose. He looks good, damn good in that three-piece suit, his dark hair impeccably styled, his fingers resting on his chin, as if he’s thinking way too hard.
He doesn’t move for a moment, doesn’t even speak as he looks me up and down. His gaze is like fingers along my body and I feel my nipples harden underneath the silk of the gown. I curl my fingers into my palms, my nails digging into the flesh painfully.
I don’t like this reaction I have for him. It seems out of place, consuming. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced before. And not only does it arouse me, but it pisses me off.
I’ve never needed anyone in my life. I’m a foster system kid, bouncing from home to home. I’ve never had a family, never even wanted one. I also don’t do relationships of any kind. No friends. No boyfriends. Ever.
It’s just easier that way. It keeps you from getting hurt.
I’m young, but I’m street-smart, and I feel I’m years older than I actually am. I have to be in order to do what I do. To survive.
But Braden is completely different, my total opposite. No doubt he has had everything handed to him on a silver platter, has family money, and is obviously extremely well-off.
I’m gum that would stick to the bottom of his expensive designer shoe.
But he doesn’t look at me that way. He looks at me like he ...wants me.
Finally, he stands, and I straighten, feeling tingles race along my arms and legs. His gaze moves down to my chest and I know he’s staring at my breasts. I know he can see how hard my nipples are. I can’t breathe in that moment, not as he steps closer, not as the scent of his cologne and his overpowering masculinity wash over me.
He’s unlike any other man I’ve met.
Braden is wealthy but not arrogant about it. He knows he’s in control, and it’s that kind of power that turns me on, apparently.
“Gorgeous,” he murmurs in a low, husky voice.
He lifts his hand and picks up a strand of my hair that fell from my ponytail. For a moment he just stares at it as he rubs it between his fingers, as if memorizing the texture. But then, as if he knows he’s in some kind of trance, he lets my hair go. A second later he takes a step back and that hard mask covers his face again.
He turns and looks at the sales associate, who stands off to the side with her hands clasped behind her back and her head lowered. She looks submissive as hell. And I wonder if I looked exactly like that just moments before, drunk from his very presence.
This is insane.
I am insane for how I feel for Braden. I know nothing about him aside from the fact he clearly likes to blackmail people to get what he wants. Or maybe it’s me he likes toying with.
Then again, I did steal from him.
I guess it’s par for the course, as if we’re equal now.
“We’ll take it. I want all the accessories as well: shoes, undergarments.” He glances at me and looks me up and down again, as if he’s visualizing me in those panties and bra. I feel my face heat. “Get dressed. I’m taking you to get jewelry.”
And just like that I find myself turning around, as if he’s the puppet master and controls the strings that are connected to me.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’m in too deep now.
Braden
“I’m not having sex with you.”
I look over my shoulder at Macy and I keep my face expressionless, even though I want to smile.
She can deny it all she wants, but I see the desire on her face, catch the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not watching. She wants me as much as I do her. She can pretend she doesn’t, but I think we both know it’s going to happen eventually.
It’s just a matter of when.
Today proved that as nothing else could. I spent the day buying her clothes, watching her reactions and learning more about her than she’ll ever know. Every moment I’ve spent in her presence just makes me desire her more.
I don’t do relationships, never have, but I’m definitely going to enjoy fucking Macy out of my system.
“I don’t remember asking you,” I tell her as I shrug out of my jacket.
“Then why are we in a hotel room?” she grumbles, her face deepening with color as if her thoughts jumped right down into the gutter.
I can’t decide if she’s embarrassed or turned on. I’m pretty sure it’s a mixture of both and I like it. I lay my suit coat over the chair and unbutton my cufflinks. As I put them on the entrance table I give her a warning look, a side-eye glance that tells her I won’t put up with her bullshit.