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)
“It smells like me after a hard run.” I shake my head and roll my eyes. “But you’re welcome to it if you don’t like, oh I don’t know, deodorant.”
She laughs and bends to slip on her jeans. I walk up and stop her.
“Fair’s fair,” I whisper across her lips. “What do I get to keep of yours?”
She holds my stare while she shimmies out of her panties and slips them into the inside pocket of my suit jacket.
“Don’t say I never gave you anything.” She pulls on her skinny jeans with a smile and walks out into the hall.
What am I going to do with that woman? I touch the silk stuffed into my coat pocket. Oh, any manner of things when I return from South Africa.
Once in the car, I wish Sofie and I had met Harold and Henri at the airport. I want to spend the last few minutes we have together with her much closer. I settle for holding her hand, and even that small gesture draws a disapproving look from Henri. What is her damn problem with Sofie?
“There’s a picture of you on Page Six, Trevor.” Henri lifts her eyes briefly from her phone, flicking a glance between Sofie and me. “And you, Sofie.”
I’ve never been on Page Six in my life, and would have been fine going to the grave without that dubious honor.
“Let me see.” Sofie holds out her hand for Henri’s phone. Her smile disintegrates as soon as she reads the headline. “‘The Sinner and the Saint’?”
“What?” I lean into her shoulder to see the screen, laughing as soon as I read the headline.
The Sinner and the Saint: Bad Girl Sofie Baston and International Philanthro-preneur Trevor Bishop Paint the Town for Good.
“Did they make up a word for me? That’s kind of cool.” I chuckle. “Which one am I supposed to be? Sinner or saint?”
“It’s not funny, Bishop.” Sofie hands the phone back to Henri, turning her face to the window, eyes straight ahead, mouth tight.
“Sofie, come on. Who cares what people think?”
“I guess I do.” Sofie doesn’t take her eyes off the water beneath the Brooklyn Bridge.
The rest of the ride is silent. Henri and Harold on their phones. Me debating how seriously I should take this. Sofie contemplating the city through the window.
“We’re here,” Henri slices into the silence. “Come on, guys.”
“Right behind you,” I say, not moving from my spot beside Sofie. “Just a minute.”
Harold nods and gets out. Henri looks like she might crack the whip, but I give her a look to remind her who the boss actually is in this situation.
“Hey, you.” I pull Sofie over my lap, bringing her knees on either side of my thighs so she’s straddling me. “Don’t let that stupid headline get to you.”
“We just don’t need this right now.” She touches our noses together. “Not for the Collective or this case with Kyle. As good as this feels, as right as it feels, I keep wondering if it’s the wrong time for us.”
If I tell her what I’m feeling, I could scare her off. How do I tell her the feeling that was missing with Fleur, with every woman I’ve ever been with, that urgency my father told me about—I have it for her. I feel it for her. I have almost from the beginning. At first it was just a hunch that there was more to her than this body and this face. And then an urge to know for sure. It exploded into the possibility that I’ll never feel this for anyone else. I can’t say any of that. We haven’t been together long enough. She’ll assume it’s the sex talking. She’ll assume that I see only what the other men in her life saw, what they thought they wanted from her. A good time until it was over. How do I tell her that there is no right time or wrong time, only all the time?
Because I don’t see this ever ending.
I can’t tell her that, so I just kiss her until we’re both breathless. I press her into my body and trust that she’ll hear my heart.
“Listen to me.” I cup her face, holding her eyes even though it’s obvious she wants to look away. “You’re no sinner and I’m no saint. I don’t care how other people label us or speculate about what we’re doing. There’s only one label you should worry about wearing.”
“What’s that?” she whispers, eyes softening the longer I hold her.
I lean into her ear and lace our fingers against my chest.
“Mine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sofie
I miss Trevor already. It’s impossible that after just a few days of having him in my bed I can’t sleep without him, but last night I found myself wide awake, wondering how much longer before I would have him hard and warm at my back. I knew if he was with me, I’d have slept like a baby, feeling cared for and protected. Not to mention he’d probably have fucked me into exhausted oblivion. Man, was he worth the wait. He’s insatiable and can’t get enough of me. It’s so mutual.