Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I find my crew draped over velvet couches, looking frothy and fabulous. Or maybe everything feels that way tonight.
“My pets!” I call out, then I join Harlow, Ethan, and Camden. “Where’s Jules?”
“In the ladies,” Camden answers.
I hear the click of stilettos over the sound of the piano. “I take it mojitos are on you tonight?” Jules asks from behind me.
I turn to answer Jules, only, she’s…blonde.
“Your hair,” I say stupidly, pointing.
She smiles like a cat. “Oh this? It’s a wig,” she says, then waggles a brow as she sits next to me. “I think I’m into wigs now.”
“Is this more of After-Dark Jules?” I ask, dying for details.
Camden jumps in with, “Take her to a club and you’ll see what After-Dark Jules is like.”
“I’ve been to dance clubs with you,” I tell Jules, and I’m holy hell intrigued. The more I get to know her, the more layers I find.
Ethan stretches across the table and taps my knee. “I don’t think she means dance clubs,” he stage-whispers.
Jules just smiles and says, “Oh, hush.”
I stare at my now-blonde friend, agape. “Mojitos are on me, but stories are on you, evidently. I want to hear more about your clubs.”
She bobs a shoulder. “I’m not sure there’s much to tell.” She takes a beat, then adds, “Yet.”
I laugh, surveying the faces of my friends, my found family. They’re bright and sparkly, eyes twinkling, mouths lifting. I say to the group, “I feel like that yet is doing a lot of work in that sentence.”
“It sure is,” Harlow says.
Jules just gives another secretive smile.
Soon I suspect she’ll share more of that yet. I’ll be ready when she does. For now, we order drinks, and then toast.
“To Layla Mayweather,” Ethan offers, holding up his cocktail. “AKA Lola Jones.”
“May she continue to be fire,” Harlow seconds, lifting her iced tea.
I chime in with, “And to new friends and old.”
“And dirty little secrets,” Camden adds, staring pointedly at Jules.
Who turns to me. “And to winning the heart of an Adams man,” she says.
I clink, but that comment—an Adams man—plays a couple of times in my head.
But I put it out of my mind when I go to a gorgeous building in Gramercy Park to see my Adams man. Who’s in bed. Listening to a podcast.
I strip out of my clothes and join him. He’s wearing boxer briefs and a T-shirt, but that’ll change soon if I have my way.
First, I turn his Future Think podcast all the way off. There’s something I’ve wanted to ask him. “Do you still want to learn the tango?”
He laughs. “Are you offering me a refund on the tango refund?”
I nod. “It’d be fun. You and me. We could take dancing lessons.”
He pulls me close. “I’ve always liked dancing with you, beautiful.”
I snuggle next to him. “Good. Because I took the liberty of signing us up.”
That earns me another laugh. “Well, aren’t you bossy?”
Speaking of bossy…
“The whole evening kind of got me in the mood,” I whisper, wriggling a little against him.
“That so?”
“Just a little.”
The corner of his lips curves up. “Only a little?”
I rock my hips into his side. “Maybe more than a little.”
His smile is dirty. His eyes flicker with filthy delight. “Let me get this right. While you were out with your friends, celebrating your brand-new job, enjoying mojitos and conversation, you were imagining seducing me?” He trails a hand down my neck, curving it over my shoulder.
“Yes,” I answer on a tremble.
Pushing onto an elbow, he dips his face to my throat, presses a possessive kiss there. “Good. Because there’s something I’ve wanted to do to you for a long time.”
That excites me even more. “What is it?”
He pulls back then runs a hand down my chest, over one breast, traveling to my belly. “Do you have any idea how hard it was not to think about fucking you every time you came over before?”
Mmm. I like where this is going. “I don’t have any idea,” I say, innocently. “Why don’t you tell me?”
He growls. “No. Why don’t I show you what I was thinking about all those times you were on my couch, in my living room, at my goddamn door?”
Oh, hello. Bossy Nick is in the house, and I am here for it.
“Show me.”
50
NATURAL ART
Nick
I show her all right.
She’s bent over the couch, and I’m balls deep in my woman. But I’m not pounding her. I’m taking it torturously, exquisitely slow.
I’m admiring the fuck out of all these views. The view of her long back. Her beautiful skin. Her silky hair.
“The day I moved in here,” I tell her through tight teeth, “I fought off images of this.”
A deep thrust from me. A shudder from her.
“Were you successful?” she asks, like she doesn’t know the goddamn answer.
I lean closer, bring my face near her ear. “Not at all.”