Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Don’t freak out, just think about it.”
Her palms flatten on my chest. I allow the upper part of her body to pull away, but I keep her lower half locked in place. God, this woman feels so damn good in my arms.
“I want you,” I repeat, the need to press my mouth to hers growing inside of me.
Of course I can’t do that. We’re surrounded by people who would love to start the gossip train. Even with how close we’re dancing, I imagine it has already started. My father will probably know about it before I can even get her out of the bar.
I feel her heart kick up a second time when I repeat myself.
“Just think about it,” I urge again, pulling her back to my chest.
Her palms on my chest heat me straight through to my core, but I try my best not to read too much into the way her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt.
That lovely scent of her swirls around me as I press my mouth to the top of her head. Madison Kelly is a force to be reckoned with, as I’ve learned any time she feels like I’ve insulted or demeaned her in any way. But physically, she’s tiny, at least a foot shorter than me.
It’s different holding her than it was holding Emily. My ex rivaled me in height when she was in heels.
I take a deep breath, shoving any and all thoughts of Emily from my head. This is not the time to work through any undealt with shit. I refuse to let those old wounds pop up and ruin whatever this may be with the woman in my arms.
As her scent envelops me, I realize I want it coating my skin. I want it invading every aspect of my life. I want it left behind on my sheets, the memory of her and the things we could do taking over my brain.
I want to get lost in it until I’m forced back to my own reality.
It’s a dangerous thing, this need I feel for her, but what’s the point in fighting it?
If she tells me no then I can just get over it, but if she agrees? God, I just know we’ll be explosive in bed.
“Chase,” she says, once again pressing her hands against me to urge me to put some space in between us.
She’s just so damned pretty. I wanted to strangle both of the Tate brothers when I walked up and saw the way they were fawning all over her. Thankfully, they let up on it once I got there, but it didn’t help that Madison was hell-bent on reminding them that I was her boss and nothing more, every chance she got.
“Name your terms,” she says, her sexy, slender throat working on a swallow as if it took a lot of confidence to say the words.
I honestly thought I’d have to fight to get her into my bed. Despite her being amenable to there being something more so quickly, it also makes me want to press the brakes.
There’s an uncertainty in her eyes, and I know if I tell her never mind, I’ll never get another chance.
I blame the need simmering low in my gut for what happens next, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t me falling right back into old habits. Giving in to those physical needs has landed me in hot water before. Although it’s the only thing my mind can focus on, I know I don’t have the best track record in these areas. My current custody battle and impending divorce are evidence enough to prove it.
“How about a different sort of contract,” I tell her.
She chews on the inside corner of her lip, but she doesn’t speak. She’s leaving this a hundred percent up to me, despite providing the opportunity. Her willingness to hear me out isn’t her agreement to participate. It’s my own hope that’s making me misread the situation.
“I want to fuck you,” I tell her.
She doesn’t pull completely from my arms, and she doesn’t lift her hand and slap me in the face. Honestly, with as volatile as she can sometimes be, I’m going to count that as a win.
“Sex?” she clarifies. “That’s what you want?”
My heart races, the beat of it so hard that it’s no longer in time with the beat of the drums echoing around us from the band on stage.
I realize, we’ve stopped dancing. We’re simply standing in the middle of the room, with others moving around us.
“Nothing serious,” I say. “I think we both have this itch that needs to be scratched, and—”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
She shrugs, more nonchalance in the movement than I’d like, but I’m no fool. I grip her hand in mine and make a beeline for the door.
I don’t stop to close out our tabs, but Walker knows we’re good for it. I don’t bother to lift a hand when Chandler calls my name on the way out of the bar.