Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
There is not a single woman, and some married too, who wouldn’t die to have that man between their legs.
I have a flashback to a morning at my father’s place. I’d answered the door, and a pretty brunette had lost her shit and actually hit me. She’d been one of his many women. She’d hated me, the other woman. Of course, I wasn’t the other woman at all, but my father had chuckled once he knew I was safe and well, and said, “I don’t even know her name.”
Suddenly I feel dirty.
Tyler’s gaze locks with mine, his awareness of my inspection evident in his stare, heat in the depth of his gaze…too much heat. Anyone watching has to notice. I whirl around, grab the coffees, and by the time I’m facing forward, he’s towering over me again. “You’re late,” he says.
“Yes, but—”
“Yes,” he insists, in typical, intolerant Tyler mode.
It’s this attitude that pushes people away and I’m fine with being back in that little box again.
“Yes,” I concur, “I am late, but I also got you coffee.” I offer him one of the two cups.
He reaches for it, our hands brushing in the process, and I feel that touch in that spot between my legs where he’s licked me. It’s insane and unnerving. I don’t like it. I’m that girl, that nameless girl, and it still feels just as dirty as before this touch.
Tyler’s eyes narrow on me, his mouth curving in this ridiculously satisfied way, as if he knows I reacted to his touch. For a moment, I think he thinks I’m ready to lift my leg again, until he adds, “Just couldn’t stomach me without caffeine now, could you?”
“That’s actually the exact thought I had this morning,” I confess, relieved that he’s read me accurately.
His lips curve as if I’ve amused him but he’s already past the moment.
He glances at his watch, a ridiculously expensive Breitling, with a black band, rose gold, and a touch of green on the otherwise black face. I know the watch because my father has a thing for watches and owns several Breitlings. I also know Jack Hawk wore a Rolex. I wonder if that is why Tyler does not. “I have to go. We’ll talk when I get back.” And he literally turns around and walks toward the door. This is not what I need from Tyler right now. In fact, all I’ve gotten from Tyler is a fight and an orgasm. That’s not enough. I rush after him.
Chapter Nineteen
Tyler
I’ve just stepped onto the elevator when Bella appears in the entryway using her slight frame to block the door’s progress as it attempts to shut, the pale blue dress she’s wearing hugging her curves.
“Oh, thank God,” she gushes. “I gambled you’d come straight here and won. I really have to talk to you. I’ll ride down with you.” She joins me inside the car, and she turns her attention to the keyboard, punching the already lit lobby button, a sure sign she is as nervous as I am agitated with the both of us right now. I swear to God, she tests my vow not to touch her again just by existing.
The doors close and at this point, we’re sealed inside the car, just the two of us, and between that dress on her banging body and the scent of her perfume, my cock is at attention. That part of my body would like very much to fuck her against the elevator wall or anywhere else, for that matter, but that’s not going to happen, not with Bella. Because my fantasies about Bella are not fantasies at all when they lead to a place where she is broken, even if she leaves me bloody in the process. Which may well be her true intent now. “Say your piece, Bella.”
She glances over at me. “I’ll wait until we’re out of the car. I’m paranoid about cameras.”
In other words, this urgent matter remains about Dash, not last night. As for the cameras, she’s not paranoid. We represent some of the biggest talents in the world, including her brother. The floors tick by and she fidgets with her perfectly manicured hands twisting in front of her, a nervous habit that isn’t a habit at all. Bella doesn’t fidget. Except now. With me. The elevator is quick about its job and the doors open at lobby level.
I hold the door and motion Bella forward. She steps outside into the lobby and rotates to wait on me. When I exit and keep walking toward the elevator leading to the garage, she quickly falls in step with me. “There’s a new studio head with a reputation for killing big projects before they hit the red carpet.”
Fuck, I think, but what I say is, “How new?”
“Three weeks.”
We pause at the elevator bank, and I punch the garage-level button. “And I’m just now hearing this?”