Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Everything except her face. She’s struggling for breath, staring up at me in wonder. “I’m not looking for a relationship.” Her words are solid, if a little from left field.
I nod, accepting. “Neither am I.”
She smiles, and the sight is dizzying. “So, Mr. Davies, how much is my house worth?”
“I haven’t got a fucking clue,” I admit. I took nothing in. Only her.
She laughs, her head thrown back. Her move offers up a neck that no man could ignore. My mouth drops and kisses the taut flesh, all the way up to her chin, and her hands come around to my back, pulling me down. She sustains my weight, and as soon as I’m settled, my mind spirals out of control trying to process what the hell just happened. Truth is, I haven’t got a fucking clue about that either. An instinct I never knew I had just captured me completely and took me way off course, and I’m at a loss for what that means. I was compelled to be soft. Gentle. Loving?
I suddenly feel suffocated rather than cozy with my face burrowed against her neck. Did I just make love to a woman? The question should have me jumping off the bed in a panic, yet I can’t bring myself to lose the warmth of her body against mine. Even the simple task of pulling away takes too much willpower.
She looks up at me, worried. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” I smile a little in an instinctive attempt to ease her. And maybe myself, too. I think I just made love to a woman. I don’t make love to women. I don’t gaze into their eyes. I don’t sink my nose into their skin and try to store their scent. Shit, this is getting scarier by the minute, and though I have the sense to halt it all, that sense is being buried by something stronger. More powerful. Her.
On a deep inhale, I start the challenging task of getting up, retrieving my trousers from the floor and pulling them on. I look down at my shirt when my fingers slip over the material, searching for the buttons. No buttons.
I shrug on the ruined shirt anyway, then find Raya’s already completely dressed and retying her hair. Just seeing her doing something so simple makes my knees wobble.
“I didn’t use a condom.” Never, not ever, have I taken a woman without protection.
“I’m on the pill. And I’m clean, if that’s your next question.”
“It wasn’t, actually,” I admit. My head is full, but with all the wrong shit. “I was thinking how amazing it felt.”
Her smile is almost shy, and I wonder if she realizes what’s just happened. “Quite a contrast to last night.”
I laugh under my breath. She has no idea. “I’m going to have another quick look around,” I tell her, backing away. “Probably best I go on my own.” She grins, and I struggle to hold back my own. “Meet you in the kitchen?”
“Sure.” Raya bites her lip, yet I know it’s not purposely seductive. She doesn’t need to try. She is just effortlessly sexy, and that’s just one of the things I find so attractive about her. As well as her brutal beauty and the fact that she’s found feelings in me that I never knew existed.
I groan under my breath and force myself out of her room, rubbing circles into my temples as I go. I feel so stressed. Blindsided. Because I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed sex so much in my life. Simple, straightforward sex, no added kink. I didn’t even know I had it in me.
I spend a good half hour doing what I actually came here to do. But my mind is constantly in her bedroom with her beneath me. Looking, feeling, touching, consuming.
When I get back to the kitchen, Raya’s flicking through a magazine with a cup of tea in her hand. Such a simple thing, but so fucking sexy. She smiles and sets her mug down, pushing the magazine away. “Well?”
“It’s amazing, Raya. Most of the others on this row have been converted into apartments in recent years. This is one of only two left that are still in their original state. It’s a pretty perfect setup for someone who has the money.”
She laughs that throaty laugh, and the sound prickles at my sensitive skin. “So it’s sellable?”
“I have a number of businessmen on my books looking for something along these lines. Is there a mortgage on it?” She shakes her head, and I breathe out my disbelief as I take a stool opposite her. “Raya, do you realize how much money you’re sitting on here?”
“Well, no, since you’ve not told me how much it’s worth.” She raises cute eyebrows and takes a sip of her tea.
She’s being coy. I know she’s had other agents here. She’s aware of exactly how much of a treasure chest she’s sitting in. “Thirty million, easy. I’d push for thirty-five. It’s in amazing condition, all tasteful, and all the major stuff is taken care of—windows, electric, heating, kitchen, and bathrooms. Someone could move in and not spend a penny.” My valuation isn’t a surprise to her, like I knew it wouldn’t be.