Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
"Fine. You ever been to a BDSM club before, Gemma Marsh?"
I sniff at the way he emphasizes my name, relieved that he doesn't seem to recognize it. At least he won't go running to Garrett to snitch on me. For once, I'd prefer not to have my whole family all up in my business.
"Answer the question, beautiful."
"Yes."
He doesn't say a word. He just looks at me like he knows all my secrets. It's a very intimidating stare. I guess that's probably why they put him in charge of letting people in.
"Fine. No."
"That's why. They're going to eat you alive in here."
"Well, that's my choice to make, not yours," I say, far more bravely than I feel right now. Is he right? Am I getting in over my head here? Maybe. Probably. What I know about BDSM clubs, I read online. But I've come this far. I'm not giving up now just because some gorgeous giant thinks I can't handle myself. Besides, this is precisely why I'm here in the first place.
People take one look at me and decide I'm some little girl who needs to be protected instead of a grown woman with grown woman needs and desires. I'm twenty-one, and I've never been kissed. I've never even been on a date, for crying out loud! I have a college degree, an adult job, and pay adult bills, but men still treat me like a helpless little girl.
I'm tired of being handled with kid gloves. Just once, I want to know what it's like to be seen and treated like a woman whose needs matter. I want someone to look at me like they're going to lose their minds if they can't have me. And I want to know what naughty, filthy things I like.
Is that so wrong?
Absolutely not. And I refuse to believe it is.
"Who invited you?" Bronx growls, his voice somehow three octaves lower. And whoa. I think I feel it vibrating in my stomach…right alongside an intense wave of desire I'm trying desperately to ignore. I don't stand a chance in hell with this man. He doesn't even want to let me through the door.
I kind of wish I did stand a chance, though. If I have a type, I think Bronx Kaiser might be it. He's definitely doing things to me that should be illegal.
"My friend."
"I want a name, Dilemma."
"Why?"
"So I can figure out who I'm killing," he mutters.
"You better not!" I stomp toward him, mad now. "Elodie can invite who she wants to invite. That's the point of having invitations, Bronx. You give them to people so they come with you to places."
A smile cracks his lips, changing his entire expression from grumpy-hot to devilishly handsome. The universe wasn't playing when it crafted this man. He's beautiful when he smiles.
"So, you got the invitation from Elodie Jackman," he says.
Ah, crap. He just played me.
"Oh, you cheater. You did that on purpose." I glower at him, not sure if I'm more annoyed or impressed. He's frightfully good at that. Of course he knows Elodie. He's Coby's freaking brother.
"You fell for it. How the fuck did Elodie get an invitation? She isn't a member. And how the fuck do you know my name?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" I smirk at him, tucking my invitation back into my clutch. I'm onto his game now, and I'm not giving up anything else.
"Yes, actually. People generally ask questions when they want to know the answers, beautiful." He seems amused now.
"Too bad, so sad." I blow him a kiss, feeling extra sassy. It's his fault, really. He's being bossy and uncooperative, and it makes me want to be a little bit of a brat. I've never acted this way in my life, but…I think I like this feisty side of myself. This is the woman I wish I could be every day. One not afraid to say how she feels and take what she wants and cause a little bit of trouble. Especially if I'm causing it for this man. Getting under his skin doesn't suck.
Bronx narrows his eyes on me, growling. "You're pissing me off, baby. Where did Elodie get the invitation?"
"I'll make you a deal. You let me inside, and I'll tell you what you want to know." I know, I know. We're not supposed to negotiate with terrorists. But whatever. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
"Yeah, abso-fucking-lutely not. You aren't getting inside."
"Why not?"
"Because I decide who gets in and who doesn't, and I decided you don't."
"Yes, but why?" I press, refusing to give up that easily. "I'm old enough. I'm dressed appropriately. I have an invitation." I narrow my eyes on him. "Is it my size?"
I've got curves for days. They were the bane of my existence growing up. There simply is no hiding boobs or a butt like mine when you're only five-two. It didn't help that I have the belly and thighs to match. I tried eating like a bird for a while, but I hated that. When I was sixteen, I finally gave up. I decided that I'd rather be happy and full than miserable and starving. I've learned to love my body as it's grown and changed. It's far from perfect, but it's strong. That's enough for me.