Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
We can’t stop. There’s no way we can stop. There aren’t enough cold showers to cool me down. To ease this burn.
“Come up.” I whisper the words into his mouth, sharing a breath with him. Diving back into the warm, dark depths of him for another kiss. Another stroke of his tongue that licks fire down my throat. His mouth is urgent on mine, and I’m sure he’ll give us both what we want, but he slows the kiss, little by little, until it is mere brushes of our lips against each other.
“I’ll walk you up, of course, but then I should go.”
The Southern gentleman.
Disappointment congeals in my stomach. All the way up in the elevator, I say nothing. My throat burns with rejection. I study the swirl pattern of the marble floor, so glad when the doors whisk open to the penthouse level.
“This is me.” I step off the elevator, not even sure he’ll follow, but he does.
At the entrance to my apartment, I turn to face him, my back pressed to the door.
“Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“Aren’t you polite?” Trevor dips his head, trailing kisses down my neck and over my collar bones until his lips are at my ear. “Do you think I don’t want to, Sofie?”
I shake my head, pushing my lips into a self-deprecating smile.
“I guess you don’t want to as much as I do.”
This man continues to surprise me. He takes my hand and slides it down to the bulge in his pants. My breath catches at how thick and hard he is under my fingers. I squeeze to assure my libido it’s all him. It’s all real, and soon it’ll be all mine.
“All the time, Sof.” He leaves kisses along the underside of my jaw and whispers them across my lips. “That’s how I feel all the time around you.”
“Then why—”
“More.” He pulls back and peers into my eyes, still searching for something I don’t even know that I can give him. “I want more from you than you’ve ever given anyone else.”
“What if I can’t give it?”
He smiles, tracing a finger over my brows and down my chin, finally touching my lips.
“Have dinner with me again tomorrow night.”
That look is back, the one that pokes at my surface and tugs at my stitching, loosening me, freeing me a little more every time. Of all the pleasures I imagine with him, it’s this look I’m finding hardest to resist.
“Okay. Tomorrow then.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sofie
I’ve gone all out.
Last night at Trevor’s place was incredible. It was intimate and warm and private. Tonight is our first time…out, unless you count our argument on Fifth Avenue. I don’t go much of anywhere without being recognized. Even before I modeled, Walsh and I were in the public eye by virtue of who our fathers were. Everyone, especially me, assumed we would end up together, and the media started tracking us early on. Even my debutante pictures appeared in W magazine. I don’t even think about it anymore really. But tonight, they’ll know I’m with Trevor, and I want him to be…I don’t know, proud. I’m used to walking into a room and knowing every man wants me. I want everyone to know that I want Trevor. That I’m dressed for him. That at least for tonight, I’m his.
One last glance in the mirror confirms that I’ve done Stil proud. She was more anxious about tonight than I was. She cleared my schedule for a wash and trim, facial, and all-over body wax. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the Brazilian would probably be wasted tonight.
My hair falls past my shoulders, silver and gold. I went dramatic with my makeup, eyes fully smoked out. My lips are pale petal pink, almost nude. My leather skirt grips my body from waist to knee, then flares to a peplum hem. The blush-colored silk blouse sheaths my arms tightly and plunges just below the curve of my breasts, offering flashes of skin but no nipple. I don’t think Trevor would like that. I’ve finished the look with classic black Louboutins and a simple clutch. At the last minute I slip the pink diamonds Daddy gave me for my sixteenth birthday into my ears.
Just as I’m giving myself the final final perusal, the wall intercom buzzes. I press the button to answer.
“Ms. Baston,” Clive from the front desk says. “You have a visitor. He’s not on your list, so I wanted to check before I sent him up, of course. A Mr. Bishop.”
“Yes, send him up, Clive. Thanks.”
I take a steadying breath and shake out my hands. I used to feel this way before rowing competitions. Excited. Nervous. Eager. I was a teenager then. Over the years, I’ve shooed away all the butterflies, but they’re back tonight, fluttering in my belly with acrobatic turns. When I open the door for Trevor, they flap their wings triple time.