Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 83171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
But then I let go.
I smile.
I fucking smile like I’ve never smiled before.
“I’m not dressed appropriately,” she says, meeting my gaze.
“I didn’t say we were going to a black-tie affair.”
“I don’t think—”
I interrupt her. “You look fine. It’s dinnertime, and I’m hungry. I don’t feel like eating alone for once. Don’t make more of this than it is. Your job will be safe.”
She opens her mouth, and her stomach lets out a famished growl. Adorable. Freaking adorable, this woman.
“You’re obviously hungry,” I say. “Let’s go.”
She walks toward the door of the office. “Okay. Where are we going?”
I hide my enthusiasm at her acceptance. Why do I feel like jumping for joy? Sure, I haven’t had sex in a while, but I’m never this eager.
“I feel like oysters,” I say.
“Sounds good,” she says as I open the door for her. “Wait,” she adds.
“What?”
“I don’t even know you. I… I’ll meet you there. What restaurant are you thinking?”
Smart of her. I like her more already. “Union Oyster House. You want me to get you a cab?”
“Sure. I guess.”
“Or you can drive with me. It’s not far, and I personally guarantee your safety.”
She pauses a few seconds before turning to me. “As long as you personally guarantee my safety.”
“Absolutely.”
I lead her to a black Mercedes parked in front of the hotel. My driver emerges and opens the door. The back seat is lush with a cream-colored leather interior. I get in next to her.
“Union Oyster House, Christopher,” I say to the man who’s been my driver for the past several years.
“Yes, sir.” Christopher closes the car door and takes his place in the driver’s seat.
We don’t talk at first, which is fine with me. Personally, I hate forced conversation. I got enough of that early in my career at events where I had to schmooze my way into what I wanted. I’m good at it, but like social media, I dislike it. After the day I’ve had, forced conversation sounds akin to torture.
And I’m never in the mood to be tortured.
So I’ll wait. I’ll wait for her to relax a little bit. Loosen up. I want to know this woman, and it’s not because knowing her will piss off Addie. That’s merely a fringe benefit. I rarely concern myself with Addison Ames—this afternoon notwithstanding—and as I regard Skye Manning, her tense countenance and her luscious lips, I don’t give a rat’s ass what the consequences will be.
Addie knows a lot of secrets.
But my desire—fuck, it’s more than desire—for her assistant outweighs all of that.
I relax next to her. My knee touches hers, and she tenses even more. I expect her to say something, but she doesn’t.
With Skye Manning, I may not always get what I expect.
And I find that realization thrilling.
The car stops, and Christopher opens the door once more. She takes his gloved hand as he helps her out of the vehicle.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
She cringes slightly at Christopher’s use of “ma’am.”
I hold back a smile.
“Mr. Black,” the maître d’ says as we walk into the restaurant, “we’re thrilled you’re joining us tonight. Your usual table?”
“That’ll be great. Thanks, Marco.”
Marco personally leads us to my preferred table. It’s near the back—a bit more isolated and a bit less noise. I sometimes do business here, so I prefer the additional privacy.
Skye sits when Marco pulls out a chair for her. “Thank you,” she murmurs again.
“Sometimes I like to sit at the bar,” I tell her once I sit down across from her. “Those shuckers tell the most amazing stories.”
I’m not sure why I mentioned the shuckers. For some reason, I felt like I needed her to know I don’t have a habit of bringing women to my usual table.
Skye takes the menu Marco hands her and stares at it as if it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.
I already know what I’m about to say. I’ve said it to many women before, but never have I meant it as much as I’m about to.
“Skye.”
“Yeah?” Still staring at the menu.
I lift the menu out of her hand. “Look at me.”
She meets my gaze.
“I want to take you to bed tonight.”
Chapter Three
She freezes.
I stare at her, dare her to break the invisible force between our gazes. She doesn’t.
And damn, it’s hot.
Just when I think she may never speak again— “Excuse me?” comes out.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t stutter.” I again resist the urge to smile, even though I’m sure my eyes are giving me away. “And I’m also sure there’s nothing wrong with your hearing.”
She clears her throat. “I’m not going to bed with you, Mr. Black.”
Yeah, she is. Already I see the signals. Her gaze darts from my eyes to my mouth, and her lips part when she eyes my shoulders. She’s interested.
“Call me Braden.”
She squirms slightly in her seat. Her brown eyes darken slightly to an almost smolder, and I can’t resist creating the image in my mind of her gaze meeting mine right as she climaxes.