Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
He smiled broadly, and the sight of it almost knocked me over. It creased his whole face, twinkled through his eyes and exposed a full set of perfect teeth. In The House, I’d gotten just a tease of the gesture. Getting it head-on was another level altogether, one I wanted to experience again as soon as it dropped from his face.
“I think you might be the first person to ever tell me that.”
“Really? How do the other people you stalk handle it? They write thank you letters?”
He attempted to scowl, but I could see the amusement still present in his eyes. “I wasn’t stalking you. I was doing research.”
“Research on what?” I crossed my arms over my chest, and it wasn’t my fault the action pushed up my cleavage a little. His attention strayed for the briefest of moments, then returned to my eyes. “You said that you needed to know more about me. Why?”
Maybe it was good we came here. Fueled by the two vodka martinis I’d downed just after walking in, my tongue was spitting out all of the things I couldn’t seem to text him and say.
He studied me for a long moment before he responded. “I don’t dive into relationships without properly vetting someone.”
It was such a ridiculous statement that it took a moment to process. When I managed to speak, my words stuttered on their way out. “Dive into relationships? What makes you think I want a relationship with you?” That question wasn’t that difficult to answer. Most women would claw their way through insulation for a chance at this man, assuming they were willing to overlook the gold band on his ring finger.
My monologue gained traction. “And aren’t you forgetting the fairly major detail that you’re married?”
He watched me calmly, as if I hadn’t just presented him with an impossible equation. When I stopped talking, he raised one eyebrow. “You finished?”
“Yeah,” I snapped.
“You probably don’t want a relationship with me. But I’d be willing to bet the title of this club that you want me to fuck you. And I don’t fuck strange women that I know nothing about. As you pointed out, I am—on paper and for appearances’ sake—married. I can’t risk that union for flings with unstable or talkative women. And I don’t step into any situation without knowing what is potentially at stake, both for me and for them.” He nodded at me. “You’re single. Intelligent. Not interested in monogamy. Hard-working. And—”
“Yeah, I’m awesome.” I interrupted. “I know.”
“And humble.” He smirked.
His confidence irritated me, mostly because that smirk seemed to cause my lady parts to clench and pant. I lied to cover the reaction. “Despite what you may think, I’m not interested in you fucking me.”
He shrugged. “I don’t like to waste my time, Bell. If you don’t want me to chase you, I won’t.”
It was a question and a statement, all at the same time. Did I want him to chase me? Did I want Dario Capece’s attention?
I didn’t. I did.
I wanted to step away and return to my friends.
I wanted to move closer and feel his hands against me, his mouth on mine. The idea that this man had thought about me, had taken steps toward a physical or emotional relationship … it took my lust of sexual power to an entirely new level. I’d seduced boys like Elliot and men like Ian. I’d never come close to someone like Dario. A man who could have any woman of his choosing yet was fixating on me.
I wanted him to take me away from the crowds and do even more.
I swallowed and evaded the question. “So, your marriage is fake? That’s what you’re saying?”
“I’m not saying anything. My relationship with Gwen isn’t your business, not at this point. If you’re struggling with a moral line caused by my wedding ring, I can assure you that my wife doesn’t care who I fuck, only that any indiscretions are kept secret.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, hated that I believed his words, the calm look in his eyes giving me a feeling of security that was foreign to me. I glanced away. “You seem complicated. And I … I like my life as it is right now.”
“I liked things how they were last week. But then I met you, and now, things are different.”
I shook my head, my hands tightening on the railing. “We spoke for a minute, and I served you a drink. That was it.”
“I am a man of a million interactions a day, and none stick with me. Yours did.” He stepped closer. “Don’t make me kiss you to prove it.”
Somewhere deep inside, I caved, my feminine core wilting at the words, the need in me overpowering any rational sense. I didn’t say anything, didn’t move forward, didn’t react ... but he saw something on my face and reached for me. His hand closed around my waist and pulled me forward, until I was flush against him, my heels not high enough to bring our eyes level.