Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Oh my God.
I hadn’t imagined what his tongue would feel like on me; he was showing me.
“You don’t have to win or lose a bet, sweetheart. Just say the word. I’m salivating at the chance to burrow my tongue in that tight little pussy of yours.”
I shivered. God, I loved that dirty mouth of his. “I think you better stay out here while I get my purse.”
When I turned to walk inside, Gray stayed firmly planted in the doorway.
“I was teasing, you know. Come in.”
He shook his head slowly as his eyes raked up and down. “Trust me. I need to stay out here.”
***
“I should’ve brought business cards. Slipped them into my dress.”
We’d just finished talking to the third couple Gray had basically told they should move their legal business to my firm. It hadn’t even dawned on me that the majority of the people I’d be meeting tonight were prospective securities clients—even though it made perfect sense since it had been Gray’s father’s business, and we were at a party for his partner.
He looked down at the neckline of my dress. “Pretty sure you have nowhere to hide anything under there.”
Gray walked us to the dance floor and pulled me into his arms. I wasn’t surprised to find that he danced like he kissed—aggressively, holding me pressed against him. He had grace and rhythm and led with a strong hand.
“Where did you learn to dance?” I asked.
“Not from the ballroom dancing lessons one of my stepmothers enrolled me in when I was eleven.”
I furrowed my brow. “You didn’t go, yet you learned how to dance?”
“Etta taught me. It was part of the deal I made with her. I wanted to take karate lessons, not ballroom dancing. My stepmother insisted dancing was a skill necessary for a man who would grow up going to social engagements. Etta used the money for the dancing lessons to pay for the karate lessons no one knew I took, but I had to let her teach me how to dance.”
The most adorable vision of an eleven-year-old Gray dancing with Etta made me smile. “I love that. And she did a good job teaching you. You also have a certain assertive way about you that makes you naturally a good partner.”
Gray nuzzled into my hair and used his hand at my back to tug me closer. “I can’t wait to dance with you horizontally.”
He smelled so good, danced wonderfully, kissed me like it might be his last, and I knew from feeling him straddled beneath me in the limousine last night that he was also well endowed. It was debatable which one of us couldn’t wait more than the other.
After the song was over, we sat down at our assigned table. We’d been seated with Grant’s children, two women about my age, or a little older maybe. They were both very friendly when Gray had introduced us earlier in the evening.
“So what do you do, Layla?” the one named Chelsea asked.
“I’m an attorney with Latham & Pittman.”
“What’s your specialty?”
“I do mostly SEC and transactional work.”
“Oh. So you’re familiar with the lingo all of these people use, then?”
“I’m afraid so.” I smiled.
“I’m an art appraiser.” She poured wine from one of the bottles set up on the table. “Which means all I hear when most of these people talk is blah blah blah.”
I laughed. “People in the industry tend to use a lot of acronyms and like to talk shop.”
“How did you and Gray meet?”
“Umm…”
I was totally unprepared for that question and had no idea how to make we met in prison sound anything but a little nutty.
Maybe because it was a little nutty.
Gray must’ve overheard and seen my face as I tried to figure out an appropriate answer.
“She taught a class I took,” he said with a wink. “I was hot for the teacher.”
We sat around talking for a while. At times, Gray would be in one conversation and I’d be in another with someone else, yet his hand was always across the back of my chair or his thigh pushed up against mine. I loved that he seemed to need to stay connected to me in some way, because I felt the same.
Eventually, a gentleman came over and asked to steal Gray for a few minutes to talk shop. While he was gone, I took the opportunity to find the ladies’ room and freshen up. I fixed my hair, blotted on fresh lipstick, and right before I was about to leave, I decided to actually go to the bathroom before rejoining the party.
I closed myself into the stall and gathered all of the material of my dress to one side before hovering over the toilet in my high heels. I’d heard heels clacking on the tile floor and voices, but didn’t pay any attention as I put myself back together, smoothing my dress back into place. Just as I went to open the lock on the stall, I heard a woman say Gray’s name. I stilled to listen.