Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“I admire your tenacity. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with. That doesn’t mean I didn’t have help. You know my last name; it comes with its benefits, and one of those is asking for help even when you don’t think you’ll need it. I’ll be a silent investor. You can borrow money and pay it back with interest. Don’t kill yourself in the process of trying to do it all on your own, okay?” His hand cups my cheek. I can’t hold back, launching myself over the rest of the bed and landing right in his lap, where I somehow always manage to be. Sue me, I love the way he seems to always be ready for me. How he holds me tightly to him, relishing in the moment of it being just the two of us locked in his penthouse.
“Okay, I’ll ask, but seriously, Santiago, with the money from Dates for Hire and my nest egg, I should be pretty well set. It was more of me wanting to be financially stable in case my business plummets to a fiery ball and I’d need to go back to work at a dead-end job,” I tell him. I’m mentally calculating the money I have in my bank account. It’s in a high yield savings account, which still isn’t giving me enough interest, but I didn’t want to lock it into anything for years in case I took the plunge earlier. It’s currently working in my favor, seeing as how now I’ll be hiring the web designer, buying the necessary camera I’ll need, backdrops, scales for shipping, and an overall brand for my company.
“The offer is there. Now, we slept through lunch. It’s nearly dinner. What do you say we go to your place, you grab a change of clothes or three? We’ll go out to dinner and then end our night in bed.” He drives a hard bargain. A part of me wants to fight this, the what-ifs of being together non-stop, the worry that this is too much, too soon. I’m worried I won’t be the social butterfly he’ll need me to be at the charity events and galas he’s invited to.
“I see you’re in your fucking head again. Quit thinking. Let it go.” I don’t get to respond. His lips attach to mine, sucking at my upper lip until I’m moaning, then his tongue slides inside, robbing me of any and all thoughts. It’s the only time I seem to settle down. There are no cares or worries. My sole focus is on Santiago, much like his is on me. The two of us get carried away, my hands fisting in his hair, him pushing my shirt up until he can’t get it up any further, one hand cupping my breast, the other on my hip, sliding me closer, and now I’m annoyed because if he had stayed naked, I could be sliding down his thick cock right about now. Instead, I’m hindered by a pair of gray cotton sweatpants, and I’m ruining them with the way he makes me feel, wetness coating the lips of my pussy and running down the insides of my thighs.
“Fuck, I get carried away. You’re probably sore.” His hands move to the top of mine. Both of us are watching as his thumbs sweep along my inner thighs, getting dangerously close to where I’m aching.
“Not that sore.” My stomach takes that moment to grumble, annoying me further because Santiago is up on his feet, helping me slide down, and now I’ll have a version of blue balls, only it’s for women.
“Clothes and food first, cariño.” He’s dropped that endearment a lot, calling me sweetheart. I’ve learned a few things working at the medical office, and this is definitely a plus.
“Fine, if you insist.” I roll my eyes, secretly loving he’s this grumpy man to the outside world but around me he’s loving, caring, and really freaking sweet.
“I do. I’ll grab you a pair of my boxers. See how your ankle feels and go from there.”
“Hey, Santiago?” He’s already on his way into the bathroom, moving as quickly as possible. He stops, back to me but eyes focused on mine. “Can we eat here tonight?” I point at my face, knowing the bruising is only going to appear worse, along with the puffiness.
“Cadence, we can do whatever you want.” The man may not be perfect, but he’s pretty perfect to me.
TWENTY-THREE
Santiago
Cadence tried to keep me from entering her apartment last night. Not sure how she thought that was possible when she couldn’t put her full weight on her ankle just yet. Add in the fact that it was on the second floor, and it had me carrying her up the stairs. It ruffled her feathers, but we got through it. I helped her pack a bag, making sure the safe she had in her master closet was still locked, bolted to the ground so no one could up and walk off with it. The woman has her shit together, and when she finally let in on the fact of her business, I’d have invested even if we didn’t have a relationship. It’s a solid game plan and business plan all wrapped in one. After she packed what was needed, I carried her back down the stairs, her two bags hanging off my shoulder, with her grumbling that if I’d allow her to use the crutches I had sent over, she could have walked on her own. From there, I ordered dinner to be delivered—a steak dinner for the both of us, a baked potato and Brussel sprouts for her, and for myself mashed potatoes and broccoli. Cadence was drooling over the dessert menu, attempting to figure out what she’d like when I took over and ordered one of each. Sure, four desserts might seem like overkill, but leftovers aren’t always a bad thing.