Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“That’s sweet,” I say while his thumb rubs across my cheek.
“She can’t paint to save her life, but she’s convinced it’s good. I guess we all do what’s necessary to keep the people in our lives happy.”
“That’s even sweeter,” I reply, and he smiles slightly then bends at the waist. I hold my breath as he brushes his lips across mine, and when he pulls back, my lashes flutter open.
“I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I’ll be out of the office all day or I’d say we could have lunch.”
“I think it’s better if we keep things on the low,” I tell him, covering his hand with mine and hoping he doesn’t get mad. “I really don’t want people to get the wrong impression, especially since I just started.”
He drags in a breath through his nose and nods once. “I can give you that for now.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything.” He lets me go and heads for the door. “Be good.”
I have to laugh. “I’m always good.”
“I doubt that.” He winks then he disappears. After the door closes, I look over my shoulder at the view of the city lit up and smile when I realize I might be just as insane as Braxton Adams, and I’m okay with that.
Chapter 7
Dakota
WITH A BOTTLE of water in hand, I head down to the gym to get in a run before I have to go to work, already dreading the idea of running. I’m not one of those people who enjoys working out, but I am one of those people who likes sweets and wine, so I pay my dues.
Once I step into the gym, I take off my sweatshirt and put it and my bottle of water into one of the lockers before going to the back of the room where the treadmills are lined up to look out over the city which is still dark. I hop on one near the end of the line, next to an older man who’s walking while watching something on his iPad in front of him. I put in my headphones and turn up my music before starting up the machine, keeping my pace slow while I try to talk myself into going faster. After a couple minutes, I look to my left when someone gets on the machine next to mine—a redhead with a full face of makeup and her hair in a perfect ponytail. She waves, so I wave back wondering why she would waste time with makeup if she’s just going to sweat it off.
I look at my reflection in the glass before me. Heck, I didn’t even bother brushing my hair this morning; I just piled it on top of my head in a messy bun. I press the up arrow on the machine for it to go faster then notice the redhead looking my way, so I turn toward her again but see she’s actually looking around me. I turn to check on the old guy, and my feet below me falter when I see a shirtless Braxton wearing sweats that should be outlawed while jogging, with his arms pumping and his muscles flexing.
He looks over at me and winks, making my skin warm. I want to ask him what he’s doing here, but that would be a stupid question. It’s a gym, and he’s obviously working out. I play it cool and focus on keeping my feet under me and eyes straight ahead, and lucky me, I’m still able to watch him in the glass, just like what the redhead at my side is doing. I turn toward her, and she narrows her eyes on me. I guess the whole women’s liberation business only lasts until there’s a hot guy around.
I see her speed up her machine, so I do the same, and when she presses her arrow up again, I do too, which is stupid, because I might actually die while she doesn’t even seem to be breathing heavy.
Refusing to embarrass myself, I slow down my machine to a jog then squeak a moment later when I’m lifted off my feet then set on solid ground. I lift my eyes off Braxton’s bare chest and meet his gaze with the song “Bad Guy” roaring in my ears. The song fits him and the dark possessive look in his eyes. My chest rises and falls as he lifts his hand to my cheek and smooths his fingers back, tugging my ear bud from my ear. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I say, telling myself the breathy tone in my voice is because I just ran a mile, not because Braxton is standing so close, looking like he wants to devour me.
“Since you’re done with your workout, wanna have breakfast with me?” His fingers brush mine, but my attention is pulled from him when I hear a loud noise behind me. I bite my lip, trying not to laugh as the redhead attempts to get her feet back under her and slow down. “You’re so bad,” Braxton whispers close to my ear, and I shiver, turning my head and coming face-to-face with him.