Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
It was all heat and flirtatious fun until she came to my apartment. That was the only thing that had changed. Did my wealth intimidate her? I found it hard to believe anything intimidated this woman. “Why?”
She slowly stiffened, as if straightening her spine in anticipation of an attack. “I know what you are.”
I blinked as I processed the statement.
Her hands remained on the counter, close to the pen sitting there in case she needed to grab it and jab me in the eye.
The heat between us suddenly turned into tension.
“And what is that?” I finally asked.
Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine. “A criminal.”
The corners of my mouth lifted slightly. “What gave me away?”
“The men. The guns.”
They’d been discreet, but she was too observant. “I’m not the kind of criminal that hurts people.”
“Only those who cross them, right?” she asked coldly. “Like how I’m crossing you right now.”
My eyes narrowed. “And I definitely don’t hurt women.”
For someone who was afraid, she sure didn’t look it. “You aren’t my type, so just go.”
“Then you must be into women because I’m every woman’s type.”
“Wow.” She released a forced laugh. “I don’t date criminals.”
“Then don’t date me.”
She held my stare, that undeniable attraction sizzling between us.
“You know what you want from me. The same thing I want from you.”
“Which is?”
I said it bluntly, didn’t smooth out the edges. “To fuck you.”
Now, she broke eye contact altogether, like my intensity became too much for her.
“In the mouth. In the ass. Between your tits. Anywhere I’ll fit.”
She kept her gaze averted, but the deep breath she took showed her hand. “I don’t want to get involved with someone like you.” She had to force herself to say it, to override the natural urges screaming inside her body.
“Then don’t get involved. One night. That’s it.”
Her eyes moved to me.
“You can go back to fucking your boring nine-to-five assholes tomorrow.”
She remained quiet, her fingers close to the pen sitting on the counter. Throughout the conversation, she’d discreetly moved her hand, getting closer and closer, as if she thought I wouldn’t notice. Now, she was close enough to reach it and stab it into my neck, but she didn’t bother. “One night.”
My dick broke a record, it got hard so fast.
“I mean it.”
“One night is all I need, sweetheart.”
“And don’t call me that. Otherwise, I’ll slap you.”
“Is that supposed to deter me?” I asked, giving her a partial smile. “I’ll see you at eight.”
“Where?”
“Your place.”
“You know where I live?”
I flashed her a grin before I turned away to walk out. “I’m a criminal, aren’t I?”
She lived in a modest apartment. It was in a decent part of Paris, but the building was old and run-down, and I imagined it was a one-bedroom space that was less than four hundred square feet. For a daughter of a billionaire, she was certainly living in squalor. That told me she was on her own entirely, not running up daddy’s credit cards to keep herself afloat.
I respected an independent woman.
Was a bit turned on by it, honestly.
I knocked on her door, in my military boots she didn’t like, sporting the leather jacket that made me look like a ruthless killer. She mocked my fashion choices, but she still wanted to fuck me, so I guessed I wasn’t that bad.
“It’s open.”
I stepped inside, seeing a small apartment where everything was close together. There was a small kitchen with an island, and the living room contained a single couch that faced a TV on an entertainment center. A deep red rug sat on the hardwood floor, and in the rear, I saw the door that led to the bathroom. Her bedroom must be the other door.
It was small, but her taste in décor at least made it cozy. It matched her outfits, bold but elegant.
She stood in the kitchen and uncorked a bottle of wine.
All she wore was a shiny black robe cinched at her waist. She brought the glass to her lips and took a drink, her eyes on me from across the room. They were smoky with dark eye shadow and thick lashes. Her dark hair was straight this time, reaching past her shoulders to her breasts. When she finished her drink, her red lipstick left a stain.
I loved lipstick stains—just not on glasses.
She carried the glasses to the couch and sat down, her legs crossed, the robe rising a little farther up her sexy legs. She somehow made that robe sexier than lingerie.
I took the seat beside her and reached for the glass she offered me. “You have a nice place.”
“Do I?” she asked, seeing straight through my small talk.
“I’m serious.”
“My apartment is probably the size of your closet.”
“And it’d be a shithole without your taste.”
She stilled at my candor then took a drink.
“Something you should know about me…I’ll always give it to you straight.”