Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
I see her long, dark hair all wet and shiny, and I want to grip it in my fist.
I see the creamy swell of her plump breasts, and I want to see if they would fit my palms.
I see the shapely curve of her legs, and all I can think about is the sweet junction between her thighs.
I want to know if she's feeling hot and wet.
I want to know if she's as turned on as I am.
And when I hear her whisper my name---
Jacques.
Desire rages in me in a way that it's never done before, and I find myself playing the bastard because it's all I can do to resist the urge to haul her close.
"That's Mr. Carpentier for you."
I glare at her as I snap the words out.
"And will you cover yourself?"
The cruelty and rudeness are deliberate.
I want her to hate me.
Need it actually, since I've finally accepted that there is no way for me to hate her.
But instead of making her back away, she actually takes a step towards me.
"What do you think you're doing?"
She takes another step, and I'm forced to take a step back.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I can barely breathe when the distance between us narrows down into mere inches.
What the hell is she thinking?
But then she walks past me---
Is she leaving?
I'm already turning around at the thought, and that's when I see her lock the door.
Damm her.
She turns to me again, and the gleam of mischief in her eyes makes me want to kiss and spank her bottom at the same time.
Damn her.
I can't believe this is the same girl I once thought was fucking nondescript.
And when I see her bite her lip hard, I know she's trying to keep herself from smiling.
Because she knows, dammit.
She knows how ridiculous things are between us at this moment.
I'm the big, bad wolf, and she's nothing but a harmless little girl in this story.
So why the hell am I the one acting wary around her?
Riri
My whole body throbs at the way Jacques stares at me with a violent mixture of anger...and desire.
He wants me!
It was only three months ago that Jacques, having just been given the reins to his family's art foundation, started attending auditions and rehearsals.
And in all those three months, whenever I have the chance to sing for him, I can't help but feel that the attraction between us isn't one-sided.
I'm his, and he's mine!
But the moment he walks away, and I'm alone with my thoughts, doubts immediately creep in, and I start feeling scared and uncertain.
I would start questioning what I remember.
And wonder if maybe I'm only seeing what I want to see.
Because when I really think about it...
The idea of us simply doesn't make sense.
Jacques is a gorgeous billionaire who could have any woman he wants. He's THE Bachelor in the real world, and he has absolutely no reason to even notice someone like me, a nineteen-year-old girl with small-town California roots who's only studying at a New York university on scholarship.
Everyone says I have a lovely voice, but so do millions of others.
My dreams, my talents, or my passion - none of it counts until I make a name for myself.
I'm nothing.
He's everything.
And yet---
I know what I'm seeing.
It's there in his eyes.
And in the way he's making me feel all hot, faint, and absolutely bothered with how his gaze devours every inch of my wet and barely covered flesh as it travels over my form from head to toe.
He wants me!
The realization feels surreal, and when I see Jacques suddenly shove his hands deep into his pockets---
Oh!
It's my turn to suck my breath, and he hears this.
"What is it?"
His voice is low and rough, and my whole body trembles at the sound of it.
I can't even imagine how sexy it would sound if he were to use that same tone to say my name.
He wants me.
Me!
He wants me!
I feel heady just thinking about it, and when I notice how his hands are still shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers, it's then I hear myself say, "Why are you doing that?"
"What do you mean?"
There's this tiniest part of my brain that's still capable of functioning properly, and it's warning me to tread carefully.
But because the rest of me is already lost and completely consumed by the scorching heat of his presence---
"I see you clench your fists sometimes when we talk," I whisper. "And I realize it's because you want to push me away."
His jaw clenches, and my breath catches.
Because I know.
He might as well have said yes by doing so.
And if I were right about that, then---
"I also notice you cracking your knuckles at times," I hear myself say. "And it always made me wonder if that was something you did...every time you have the urge to push me down---"
"Watch your words!"
"---and have your way with me?"