Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“Neither one of us has moved out. It’s still my home too.” Surely my mother won’t require another two weeks of separation when Cordelia insisted we get engaged tonight.
“I know.”
I catch his thumb between my teeth and bite him lightly. It’s so damn satisfying to see his expression flip to that of the predator I crave. I lick the tip of his thumb and release him. “When we get there . . . I think it’s time to finally decide whose teeth are bigger.”
His grin is pure sin. “I can’t wait to eat you right up.”
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I set the bottle down and gathered my wits, turning to greet him properly. This was the man my father wanted me to marry?
Oh God, I’d been vicious with him in the boathouse.
I aimed a loaded pistol at him! I told him to go fuck himself!
But he’d kind of deserved it.
The son of a bitch must’ve known the entire time that we’d meet later. Why did he let me humiliate myself like that?
It didn’t matter. I could salvage this. I had to salvage this, or he might tell Daddy the whole story.
I extended my hand, giving him my sweet smile. “I’m Juliet. I’m sorry I wasn’t myself earlier.”
He grasped my hand, but instead of shaking it, he tugged it up to his mouth and planted a gentle kiss between my knuckles. His lips caressed my skin, every bit as soft as I’d imagined, but it was the light brush of his lip ring that made me shiver.
This was bad. This was really bad. I had absolutely no chance of keeping my wits about me with this guy.
I wanted to run from the room instead of facing him, but I fell back on a lifetime of training. Be polite. Do as you’re told. Don’t make a fuss.
“So we meet again. Drink?” I tried to sound relaxed.
“Whatever you’re having.”
I was still freaking out, but my hands were steady. I went through the ritual of making the drinks: the measured gin, ice and a shaker, a perfect pour into a chilled glass, olives perched daintily on the rim. It gave me a moment to compose myself, to feel back in control.
He watched my every move. “A martini? I would’ve pegged you for a champagne girl.”
His eyes scanned my hair to my makeup to my gown, seeing me for the first time in the bright lighting. It was decidedly not a compliment.
“Champagne gives me a headache.” I smiled prettily through gritted teeth as I passed him one of the glasses.
He narrowed his eyes. “Drop the act.”
“What act?” I took a drink to stop from swearing at him again.
“Trying to pretend you’re a docile kitten when you were ready to shoot me an hour ago. It makes me want to wrap my fist in your hair and make a mess of that lipstick like I should’ve done earlier.”
Do it.
I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about messing it up with kisses. I was equally sure that getting on my knees right here in the Kennedy Room wasn’t exactly what Daddy had in mind, but if this guy had snapped his fingers in that instant, I might’ve done it.
And I hated him for it.
I lifted the toothpick from the rim of my glass and slid an olive off with my teeth, watching him watching me.
A challenge glimmered in his eyes.