Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
He glanced at her, realizing she wore one of his T-shirts that hung to her knees and a rush of possessiveness washed over him. Her hair was tousled and fell around his shoulders in sexy disarray. It was all he could do not to grab her and take her on his desk.
Instructing himself to rein it back because Raven wouldn’t welcome his proprietary act, he kept things light. “Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. “No. I should get home, though.”
“Or you could stay.” So much for keeping it light, he thought.
Her eyes opened wide. The wariness he’d been trying to avoid had returned.
“Remy,” she said in a warning tone.
“Raven,” he mimicked back.
She strode over to where he sat. He turned the large, leather-cushioned office chair to the side. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he pulled her onto his lap. “Ladies first. What’s on your mind? Why would staying be so bad?”
“It wouldn’t. Not if we set parameters.” She pulled her lush lower lip between her teeth and released it with a pop. “I was thinking, we’re both adults, right?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I sure as hell hope so, considering what we recently did together.”
She let out an unexpected chuckle. “You know what I mean. Anyway, since we obviously both want each other—”
Understatement of the year, he thought. “Yes?”
“Well, I agree, you’re not Emily and you can take care of yourself… and me. And now that you know about Lance, you’re not going to let me run.”
Damn right. He tightened his arm around her waist.
“So I thought we could have an arrangement.”
“Such as?”
“I’ve seen you in occasional relationships through the years… well, not relationships exactly, but you tend to have flings.”
He winced because she had a point. Until Raven, he’d never considered something serious.
“So I figured, we could be… you know, friends with benefits. At the bar, you’re my boss, and there are boundaries, but other times when we’re alone… we’d have the benefits. Would that be good for you?”
Fuck no, he thought. He wanted so much more. But that was the caveman in him talking. The rational, understanding human inside him knew he couldn’t have all of Raven without slowly winning her trust. Which meant giving her what she needed. Time. Space.
He placed his finger on her moist lower lip, running the pad over her flesh. “If that works for you, it does for me,” he said in a gruff voice.
Her shoulders sagged in what must have been relief and his heart squeezed as he realized what it must take for her to hold herself together. She was wound so tight and pressed down so much fear. Something had to give. He wanted to be her safe place.
“So we’re good?” she asked.
Meanwhile, as she sighed and wriggled on his lap, his dick grew hard and he gritted his teeth against the desire he wouldn’t be acting on.
“We’re good,” he assured her.
She hugged him, placing her head on his shoulder and her chest against his, as she breathed against his neck. “Thank you, Remy. I feel safe with you.”
And those words both solidified his decision to go slow and caused a warm feeling in his chest, and his heart beat in time with hers.
When she decided to go home anyway, he understood, and let her go.
Chapter Seven
Sterling family gatherings were large and loud, and where they were located was decided on the spur of the moment. That was Remy’s family. No planning, just an agreement to get together. Sometimes it was to catch up because it had been a while and others it was to celebrate.
Today was the latter. Aiden, their traveling journalist brother, had come home from the dangerous war zones he reported from. Whether it was for good or not was anyone’s guess. In all probability, Aiden wasn’t sure either.
Where Remy dove into the police force and now dealt in missing people to assuage his guilt over not being home when their mother was killed, Aiden ran away from his regret for being asleep upstairs during the murder. It didn’t matter that logic dictated neither were to blame. Self-recrimination was hard to let go of.
Remy’s family sat around a long table. The gathering included their father, Alex, and housekeeper, Elizabeth Snyder, though they called her Lizzie. She was an attractive woman, slightly younger than his dad. Lizzie came with the house when Alex had purchased the property in Old Brookville. A widow, she resided in the gatehouse on the property when the original residents owned the place and her staying was part of the sales agreement.
Her daughter, Brooklyn, grew up in the gatehouse and was best friends with his sister, Fallon. The women couldn’t be more different. Fallon was a Bohemian artist and owned a gallery. Brooklyn was a corporate type who dressed much more formally. Since graduating, she’d worked at the Sterling family business with Jared, who was the CFO under their dad. But the women couldn’t be closer.