Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“Roulette.”
“Big gambler, huh?”
He glances down at me. “I feel lucky tonight.”
We find space at a roulette table. I cling to his arm as he trades a wad of cash for dark-blue chips.
This is wildly out of my comfort zone. I feel like people should be staring at me for being with someone like him, but for some reason no one questions it.
“What do you think?” he asks me. “Red or black? It’s an easy choice.”
“Red,” I decide. “It matches my dress.”
“Red it is. And what’s your favorite number?”
“Why? You’re already trying to steal my social?” Then I laugh, because there’s nothing as absurd as a guy who looks this hot and rich being interested in my social security number. “My favorite number’s eight, so go with that.”
He nods at the guy in charge of the table, who spins the wheel once everyone’s bets are in.
The tension thickens as the ball slowly loses momentum, tripping over the numbers until it settles on a red eight.
My heart lunges up my throat.
Mr. Twelve nods approvingly like he’s not the least bit surprised.
“Knew there was a reason I felt lucky tonight, Lady Luck. Or should it be Lady Bug?” He nods at my dress.
I almost forgot it was peppered with small black dots.
“Thanks, dude. Is comparing me to a bug supposed to be flattering?”
“Ladybugs are good luck in some cultures. They’re also damn cute,” he says gruffly.
Despite everything, I blush. Again.
“So you think I’m cute? Very funny.” My inner loser shakes her head violently in disbelief.
He lowers his head so it’s right beside my ear. His breath brushes my hair, tickling the delicate skin.
“Show me one man at this table who isn’t staring,” he whispers.
“Stop. Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” He raises his eyebrows at me and makes another bet.
Amazingly, he wins.
And wins.
And wins.
Doesn’t matter if I make the bet or he does, it just keeps coming.
We win several rounds and leave a lot of jaws hanging on the floor, at least for the people who don’t walk away in pure disgust. By the end of the game, he’s got a whole stack of chips.
“This calls for a victory drink, Lady Bug.” He takes my hand and pulls me back to the bar. “What’s your poison?”
“Oh God, I don’t know. I’ve had a lot of poison tonight, that’s for sure.” No joke. The world has devolved into random shapes and colors and him. “Whatever you’re having.”
He orders a neat whiskey that slips down as easily as melted butter, and before I can stop him, he’s pulling me onto the dance floor.
Oh, I’m a hot mess.
Putty in his hands.
And those big, warm hands are on my back now. My chest is pressed against his, and I’m gazing up at him like those blue eyes are offering me the secrets of the universe.
“I’m not a lucky person so this is really weird,” I whisper. “Like, it’s bad. I’m a human black cat.”
“You feel lucky to me.” He slides a hand down to my ass and squeezes. “And I can feel you pretty well.”
“Oh my God.”
Did I say that out loud? No, I moaned it instead.
I am so, so screwed.
The crazy part is, I’m not even bothered by it.
“Too far?” He dips his head closer, his gaze firmly on my mouth. “Tell me and I’ll stop right now.”
I am going, going, gone.
Tomorrow, odds are I’ll regret every second of this. Hell, I definitely feel pretty nuts right now. But it also feels good, and so does he.
“Lady Bug?” he urges.
“If you’re going to kiss me, hurry up. Before I have second thoughts.”
No need to ask twice. His mouth eclipses mine in a delicious rush that makes my nerves glow like string lights.
My blood ignites.
His tongue claims mine and takes us to cloud flipping nine.
I can barely remember the way to the guest cabin where Kayla said I could crash for the night.
He’s still holding my hand, keeping me steady, following my confused turns until I find the right door and lead him inside.
As soon as the door shuts behind us, he detonates me again.
Another kiss.
Hard. Hungry. Rough.
Holy hell, I’ve never been kissed like this in my life.
My only serious boyfriend was a passive guy with awkward lips and a weak libido that had me leading everything. We never went past the make out stage, and I wasn’t sorry about it.
Call it shallow, but he never made me feel wanted.
In a single instant, this man does what five months of dates never could.
And God, he probably knows how to do everything else, too.
I have no earthly idea what I’m doing in that department, but judging by the confidence of his roaming hands, I don’t need to worry.
All I need to do is be ready.
I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t, but I don’t want to stop.
So, I don’t.
Not when he unzips my dress and shoves it to my feet in a scarlet puddle.