Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Union Oyster House, Christopher,” he says to the driver.
“Yes, sir.” Christopher closes the car door and takes his place in the driver’s seat.
I’m dressed fine for Union Oyster House. Plus, it won’t break the bank. Not that Braden Black has to worry about money, but I plan to pay for my own meal.
I don’t normally mind quiet, but the silence during the short drive deafens me. I have no idea what to say. I’m in a Mercedes with Braden Black. I’m sitting close enough to him that I can smell him. His scent is intoxicating—cloves and pine with just a touch of leather. I want to inhale it deep into my body so I never forget it.
Because I’ll never be this close to Braden Black again. Never this close to human perfection—and his scent, like the rest of him, is perfect.
He relaxes. I can tell by how his body reacts. His knee touches mine, and I tense at the effect. I’m hot and cold at the same time, as if my body can’t decide how it wants to respond to him. How am I ever going to get through an entire meal with this man? I’m ultra-aware of every part of him.
The car stops, and Christopher opens the door once more. I take his gloved hand as he helps me out of the vehicle. Surreal.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
Ma’am? I’ve never been called ma’am before. I’m not sure I like it. Twenty-four is too young to be a ma’am.
“Thanks, Christopher,” Braden says.
“You’re welcome. I’ll be here when you’re done.” Christopher waves.
Then I’m walking into Union Oyster House with Braden Black.
Braden fucking Black.
“Mr. Black,” the maître d’ says, “we’re thrilled you’re joining us tonight. Your usual table?”
“That’ll be great. Thanks, Marco.”
Marco personally leads us to a table. It’s near the back where it’s a little less noisy.
I sit when Marco pulls out a chair for me. “Thank you,” I murmur again.
“Sometimes I like to sit at the bar,” Braden says. “Those shuckers tell the most amazing stories.”
I nod. I’ve sat at the bar a few times myself. It’s fun. I almost wish we were sitting there tonight. I wouldn’t have to make as much conversation.
I take the menu Marco hands me and stare at it. I know it by heart, but it gives me something to do.
“Skye.”
“Yeah?” Still staring at the menu.
Braden lifts the menu out of my hand. “Look at me.”
His deep voice speaks to me on a level I don’t quite comprehend. I meet his gaze.
“I want to take you to bed tonight.”
Chapter Three
I freeze.
Braden Black did not just tell me he wants to take me to bed.
Gentlemen don’t talk like that, and I don’t go to bed with every man who crosses my path. Or who buys me dinner.
I’m not sure what to say. Finally, “Excuse me?” comes out.
A gleam tugs at the corner of his eye. Is it playful? I’m not sure.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t stutter,” he says, “and I’m also sure there’s nothing wrong with your hearing.”
I clear my throat. “I’m not going to bed with you, Mr. Black.” Though my thighs are already quivering at the thought.
Seriously. They’re quivering.
“Call me Braden.”
His voice is low and sexy and sends a tickle straight between my legs—a tickle I’m used to in the company of a man I want but a tickle I know won’t lead anywhere. “Are you always so blunt?”
“I find it useful in negotiations to lay most of my cards on the table outright.”
I regard him. He’s not smiling, and his demeanor has darkened.
“I guess I didn’t realize this was a negotiation.”
“Everything’s a negotiation, Skye.”
“This is dinner, not a negotiation.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Think about it. You have a reason for everything you do. You may not think it through, but your subconscious does. For example, you have a reason for accepting my dinner invitation.”
Only I never actually accepted it. I just went. “I do? Other than being hungry?”
“You didn’t have to accept my invitation to sate your hunger.” He licks his bottom lip.
My thighs are quivering again. “What other reason would I have?”
“You tell me.”
Way to put me on the spot. “I don’t know. Maybe I want to be seen with you.”
“That’s a crock.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re working for Addison Ames. You work behind the scenes. You’re not interested in being seen just for the sake of being seen. You’re interested in furthering your career, and you’re willing to put in the time.”
Strange that he reads me so well. He’s absolutely right. I clear my throat. “Maybe I want to—”
“Stop this game, Skye. There’s only one reason you accepted, and we both know what it is.” His eyes burn blue fire. “You want to go to bed with me.”
He’s not wrong, but I’m determined to stay calm. I will my voice not to crack. “You said you lay most of your cards on the table up-front. Most, not all.”