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)
“Keep bringing up my wand?” He chuckles as he presses a kiss to the top of my head, then steps back. “There’s no making it go down.” He slides out of his jacket, dropping it on a nearby chair. “At least you’re not likely to fall asleep now. I’ll be back in a minute.” He strides toward the door, pausing at the doorway, but if he was about to say something, he must change his mind. Still, it gives me a moment to drink him in once more. His dark pants still have knife-sharp pleats, his thin leather belt highlights his trim waist and his shirt the flatness of his stomach. How is it he looks completely unruffled? Meanwhile… I glance down and realize my dress is still around my hips. I begin to tug it down. At least he pulled my panties up.
“I’d say it’s a bit late for that now.” He pivots, his chuckle and his steps echoing along the hallway.
Holy heck. I’m in Leif Whittington’s bedroom! I must’ve died and gone to heaven earlier than I’m supposed to.
I take the opportunity to have a quick look around. The vast room is sparsely decorated. Like the lounge, one wall is entirely glass and overlooks the green space of Hyde Park. The bed is huge, of course, the nightstands housing nothing but space-age-looking Anglepoise lamps. The floor is dark parquet wood, a pale, fluffy rug placed between it and the bed. A massive piece of abstract artwork hangs on the wall opposite, a silver seam running down the middle. I guess it to be some sort of fancy TV cabinet. A couple of woven leather chairs, the kind you can only sit back on, or else risk tipping the chair from the front. An ottoman. A couple of chests. Doors to a bathroom and closet, at a guess. While there isn’t a lot of furniture or color (monochrome of grays and black with slashes of white), there is a lot of texture. The rug, the paneled walls, woven leather, the fur-like throw draped over an ottoman. The space is masculine and very sexy.
It’s also very tidy. Whit is a neat freak!
Pressing my hands under my thighs, I give a silent, excited squeal, kicking my heels back and forth like a kid. I stop abruptly, realizing he might come back in. I strain to listen but hear no footsteps. Or sound, really.
Where has he gone?
For props? Implements?
I press my fingers to my mouth, not sure if that excites me or not. Who am I kidding? We haven’t yet had sex but the little experience I have with him tells me I might be in for a few more surprises. I don’t have much longer to wait, for his appearance, at least, when he arrives back in the room, a bottle of water in his hand. Take away my sight and my sense of smell and I’d still recognize his presence because a million nerve endings begin to dance and shimmer whenever he’s near.
“Water from Finland?” I murmur, as I take it from his outstretched hand. I glance up from the barely-there label. “Fancy.”
“Very fancy. Springwater filtered through the ice layers.”
“Because…?”
“Because I asked the grocery service for water, and this is what they brought.”
“Should’ve gone to Tesco.”
“Mimi,” he chides. “I’m far too fancy to shop for my own groceries.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot.” I pinch in my smile. Too fancy to shop but not too fancy to chase his own dry cleaning. This man is complex. Fine. Grumpy and grumbly, yet too sweet for his own good
“Drink.”
Bossy. The man is bossy, and I like it, my skin prickling under his attention. “Should I stretch, too? Limber up a little?” I roll my shoulders, loving how he smiles at me. Just for me.
“Do you think you’re ready to stand by yourself now?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, unable to control my grin. “That was, er, some experience. You’re two for two, Whit.” I make as though to slide my hair behind my ears before realizing I’m wearing it up. I end up toying with my earring instead.
“You say that like you’re surprised.” He folds his arms across his chest as though to study me. “I might’ve strayed from the manual a bit, but you don’t seem too disappointed.”
“Manual?” My brow furrows.
“The guy manual, I think you called it. Or was it something from the internet?” Reaching up, he scratches his thumb along his jaw in an action meant to convey contemplation, I think. Not for long because it’s all part of the show as his eyes darken, and he swipes it against his mouth. “Sexual lore. That’s what you said.” Everything draws tight inside when he pushes his thumb into his mouth, the digit that was, not too many minutes ago, strumming my clit. He licks his lips as it retracts. “Your pleasure. So sticky and sweet.”