Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Why can’t I feel like this way about Duke?
I drop my head into my hands, pre-empting the regret.
I already know how this story ends, and it isn’t good. This isn’t going to be one of those happy love stories where everything gets tied up in a little red bow at the end.
I imagine myself crying on the floor, broken.
Again.
My mind takes me back to the last time we were together and how hard and fast I fell. How badly it ended.
I should know better. I do know better.
I hear the door in Sebastian’s door shut, and I close my eyes.
He’s home.
My heart begins to beat faster. Just knowing he’s near sends my adrenaline into overdrive.
This is messed up.
I’m as bad as he is.
Maybe worse.
I stand and put my ear to the adjoining door. I can hear the shower turn on in his bathroom. He’s showering.
For me.
I push my fingers into my eye sockets as I try to calm myself down.
Shit.
I rush and take out the bottle of champagne from the fridge and pour myself a glass. I down it in one go. I pour another glass so fast that it sloshes over the sides, and I lift it to my mouth with a shaky hand.
Calm down.
What is it about Sebastian Garcia that affects me so much?
I tip my head back and drain the glass again.
Fuck.
I refill my glass and sit down on the bed. Act cool.
There’s a knock on the door, and I close my eyes. Here we go.
“Come in,” I call.
The adjoining room door opens, and there he stands. Dark hair, olive skin, big red lips, and in the same hotel robe that I’m wearing.
His eyes find mine. “Hello.” His voice is cool, detached.
Nerves flutter in my stomach, “Hi.”
He lifts his chin in approval. I know he can tell that I’m nervous and he likes it.
“Can I come in?”
I gesture to the room with my hand. “Please.”
He walks in and closes the door behind him. He stands at the end of the bed. His hands are in the pockets of his robe. “What are we drinking?”
I frown, because suddenly there are no words in my brain. “Champagne.”
His dark eyes hold mine, waiting.
“Would you like some?”
“Yes.” He stays still on the spot.
I pour him a glass and pass it to him.
“Thank you.” He takes it from me, and with his dark eyes holding mine. he lifts it to his lips and slowly sips. Then he licks his lips.
“So, Cartier…” Fuck. “What do you have in store for me tonight?”
I frown, confused.
Huh?
“I want to know what I’m getting for my money.” His voice his deep and husky. I glance down to see his large erection tenting his gown.
Dirty bastard.
“This is my first job, Sir,” I whisper, playing along. “You are my first client.”
Arousal dances like fire in his eyes, and he dusts my bottom lip with his thumb.
“Take it off.”
I frown.
“I said, take it off,” he demands.
I slowly untie my robe and open it. His eyes drop down body.
“Drop it.”
I pull it back over my shoulders and let if fall. It pools around my feet.
His eyes drop to drink me in, and he gives a slow, satisfied smile. “Better.”
He reaches out and cups my breast. His thumb dusts back and forth over my erect nipple, and his eyes meet mine.
“Are you nervous?” he asks.
I nod.
“Don’t be.” He cups my face in his hand and leans in to slowly kiss me. His tongue sweeps through my parted lips as my feet float from the floor. “I’ll look after you,” he whispers.
Will you?
He kisses me again, this time deeper, and my eyes close in reverence.
My body covered in goosebumps. If this is our last night together, I’m going to make it count.
“How can I please you?” I whisper up at him.
“By breathing.”
My eyes search his.
Why say romantic things if you don’t mean them?
It’s easier when he’s hard and fast. At least then it’s only about sex and orgasms—an equal exchange of power. That, I can handle.
This, I’m not so sure about.
He grips my hair with both hands as he kisses me harder this time, and my face screws up against his.
The emotion between us is a tangible force.
I don’t even need sex. Him standing here and kissing me like this is enough.
His lips drop to my bare shoulder, and he walks around behind me.
He lifts one of my legs to sit up on the ottoman at the end of the bed. With his lips on my neck and his teeth in my skin, his hand dusts between my legs. He parts me with his fingers.
Goosebumps scatter all over again.
He bites my neck hard as he slides his fingers through my wet flesh. Our arousal is pumping hard between us, bouncing off each other like a rubber ball.
I can feel how much he wants me. He’s aching for it.