Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
He doesn’t answer, at least not right away. He just presses his elbow to the leather seat back as he kind of examines me. “Does that titillate you?” The sultriness to his tone catches me off guard, but he’s already played me once.
“There is something kind of hot about it.” I blow out a nervous breath. “You were so… and I felt. And honestly, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Fuck!” Whit snaps back as though my answer offends him.
“You asked! If you weren’t prepared for the answer, maybe you shouldn’t have.”
“I wasn’t prepared for that answer, Mimi. You can’t go around admitting to things like that. You barely know me.”
“I know you well enough.”
“I might be a massive fucking pervert!”
I shrug as my mind whispers, a girl can only hope…
Whit blows out a frustrated breath. Leaning closer, he suddenly takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you always say what comes into that head of yours?”
“If you don’t like the answers, think before you ask the question. Also, don’t give me the answers if you want to keep me thinking about it.” Who am I kidding? Answers or not, I’ll still be thinking about it.
“She wasn’t an anonymous hookup. Not completely.” I feel the loss of his touch as he draws away. “So don’t get any ideas.”
I give my head a slight shake, my eyebrows riding high on my forehead. “What kind of ideas?”
“The kind you’ve already begun imagining. Anonymous hookups are dangerous, especially for women.”
“There’s a double standard if I ever heard one.”
“I don’t make the rules,” he retorts.
“I hear there are places for anonymous hookups.” I might be sheltered, but I’ve had access to the internet. I also read the occasional Cosmo article online. “I’m sure there would be in a city like London.”
“Are you looking to get hurt?” he almost splutters.
“Death by Band-Aid isn’t really my thing. If you want the truth, I don’t know my thing.”
“What do you mean?” By his expression, he immediately regrets asking.
“I’m not a virgin, Whit.” Yep, he definitely regrets it, judging by that face he just made. “I’m just inexperienced, but I’m open to exploring. To seeing wherever this takes me.”
“Where what takes you?” He sounds almost panicked.
“Life.” I affect a short shrug. I’m grabbing mine with both hands. “I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy what happened between us. But I get it. Things need to remain professional between us. But that doesn’t mean I can’t explore what London has to offer, right?”
“You are dangerous, Mimi Valente. Imagine if it hadn’t been me in—what if I’d been a stranger? What if I’d wanted to hurt you?”
“But you aren’t a stranger,” I reply softly. “I knew it was you, even if you didn’t recognize me.” His eyes darken as they roam over me. The effect feels like hot, caressing fingertips. But then his gaze shutters, and he takes a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” he says with sincerity. “I’m sorry for not realizing it was you. I’m also sorry for what happened.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“Well, sometimes the truth is inconvenient.” I should know. It’s why I’m here in London, after all. “I won’t take it back. I’d never felt so turned on, and I don’t know what to do with that information.”
“I suggest you put it to the back of your mind,” he recommends coolly. “If you want to work at VirTu, it can’t happen again.”
Oh, Whit. Is that really what you think? “Fine,” I say instead, hugging my purse a little closer. “But that still leaves me with the question of who you were expecting. Did she turn up later? Did you do it all again? And what was with the whole…” I can’t bring myself to say it, even if thinking it draws my nipples to tight points under my shirt. Daddy. I want to say it—I really do. Just thinking that word makes an electric current work its way down my body. “Do you really like being called that?”
“Really, Mimi,” he chides, “these questions are invasive.”
“Don’t you get it? I’m trying to make sense of what it meant. It was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, and I have all these…” Feelings. “Thoughts.”
His gaze slices my way with a flash of surprise, then what looks like pain.
“If you can’t answer me, then who will?”
“The internet.” His voice sounds strangled. “We can’t have this conversation. It’s inappropriate on so many fucking levels.”
“Oh, we passed inappropriate a few miles back,” I argue. “A few days back. Inappropriate was when I lifted my skirt because you told me to. Inappropriate was when you slid your hand between—”
“Jesus Christ, will you stop!” He shoves a rough hand through his hair.
“Sure.” I give a tight shrug. “When you explain it to me.”
“Explain?” he asks, with a dash of alarm.
“Who was she? The other girl.”