Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
And I liked that. God, I liked it a lot.
I worked again Thursday and Friday night, but Killian hadn’t been there, although Luke was always within eyesight.
“Good to see you, François,” Killian replied and shook his hand. “How have you been?”
“The building has not been the same.”
Killian chuckled. “Meaning it’s quiet.”
François smiled. He looked about fifty and had strong, defined features, dark bushy brows with a speckling of silver that matched his thick head of hair. Attractive.
“Quieter, yes,” François said with a broad grin.
“This is Savvy. Savvy. François,” Killian said.
François took my hand and kissed the back of it. “Lovely to meet a friend of Kite’s.”
Killian put his hand on the back of my neck and squeezed, then slid it down my bare back.
I shivered as the callouses on his palm lightly scratched my skin, leaving behind a lingering path of heat. I’d been a yo-yo of emotions ever since I opened my apartment door to see Killian dressed in suit pants and a white dress shirt.
He was perfection. Dark gray slacks fitted low on his hips with no creases, the material falling in all the right places. The top two buttons on the white dress shirt were undone, and his tattoos were barely visible under the luxurious material.
But the tattoo of the bird of prey on his neck was vibrant against the stark white shirt.
There was no tie and it was too hot for a suit jacket, but he looked classy, even with tattoos and a piercing in his brow.
There was no question that anyone who saw him knew he had money. Not just because of his clothes, but because he owned who he was.
Not showy, but with a quiet confidence.
The first words out of Killian’s mouth when I opened the door tonight were, “So, beautiful.”
“It fits perfectly. Thank you.” A package had arrived in the afternoon and in it was a note that read, ‘Please accept this gift. I’ll pick you up at seven. Killian.’ It was a sweet gesture and my heart raced and hands had trembled when I opened it. Not so much that it was a gift, but the fact that Killian had been thinking about me.
The black dress was stunning and fit perfectly, the shoes gorgeous and they should be because I’d seen the label and knew they had to be at least five hundred dollars. I’d never worn anything so expensive in my life.
“My pleasure.” His finger had slid over my bare shoulder to the spaghetti strap where he’d traced the length of the strap. A bundle of nerves swarmed into a tight knot in my core. “You have an incredible body, Savvy.”
Heat burned in my cheeks under his intense gaze, and since the dress clung to every inch of my body, it felt as if he were looking at me naked.
“Inside and out you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you. You look really good, too, Killian.”
He’d grinned, then slid his hand into mine. That’s when I felt the scab on his knuckle and when I looked there was bruising too.
Now, we were being led to a table in a fancy restaurant by François. Killian thought it was a good spot for a more public appearance of us dating.
He stayed close to me, his hand on my back as we weaved through the tables. Several people, mostly women, admired him as we passed. But I noticed men looked at me, too.
“Sexy as hell,” he whispered, leaning into me. “You have every man’s attention in this fuckin’ place. I may have to start fighting again.”
“You see guys watching me dance at Compass.”
“No. I don’t watch you. Luke does.” No wonder I never felt his eyes on me when I was dancing. “When I watch you dance, Savvy, it will be for my eyes only.”
Oh. Wow.
François sat us at a corner table where the lights were dim, and no other tables were within five feet. On the center of the table was a silver oblong bowl with several candles floating in cerulean blue water with white rose petals. There was a hint of their fragrance drifting in the air that mixed with the sensual scents of spices from food at nearby tables.
Killian pulled out the chair for me. “Thanks, François,” he said. “Appreciate the table.”
“Always a pleasure, Kite. Mademoiselle Savvy.” He bowed his head to me, backed a couple of steps and then turned and hurried away.
Killian didn’t sit across from me. He sat in the chair next to me, so we were close and intimate.
I placed the napkin on my lap. “You know one another?”
“When I lived with Crisis and Haven, we had a place around the corner. I came here for lunch sometimes. But I got to know François from our building. He had the other penthouse.” He continued, “He owns the restaurant.”
“Oh. I thought he was the maître d’.”