Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
He laughs, a deep rumble that feels real to me when not much else has lately. Maybe that’s why I need this man so much. That lust we share can’t be faked. It’s real. “Is that art teacher the reason you know classical music?” he asks, pulling me back to the present.
“Oh yes,” I say. “That’s how I know classical music and every word to every Elvis song ever recorded. Doesn’t everyone know the words to every Elvis song ever recorded?” I laugh, his lighter mood lightening mine as well.
That is until he asks, “Do you still paint to classical music and Elvis?”
I am instantly thrust back in time, to the excitement I once woke up to every day to just hold a brush. “Sometimes I’d just turn on the music and let it run through songs until one inspired me.” Except today, I think. He was my inspiration.
“Why was that statement past tense?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I think I’ve made it pretty obvious that I’m good at complicated,” he counters.
“I’m not. And take the next right. You’ll go down about a half a mile and then turn at the white gate. That leads to my property. You can park in the driveway. I left the garage door opener in my car, and the door sticks half the time anyway.”
“Back to complicated,” he pushes.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I lift his jacket, searching for my purse under the sea of cloth. By the time I have it in my hand, my phone buzzes again, and I unzip my purse, digging it out to glance at a text from Josh: Where are you? Your car’s still here, but I can’t find you.
“Oh no,” I murmur, “I didn’t say goodbye to Josh.” I turn to Nick. “What was I thinking? He’s my agent, and I said nothing to him.”
“Text him, sweetheart, or we’ll never get to those morning-after pancakes.”
“Who says you’ll be around for pancakes?”
“Me.”
“You know, I don’t like arrogant men.”
“Since we both know I make a living being arrogant, what’s my appeal? My money. My good looks.” His lips curve. “I’m just so damn polite that you can’t help but lose your panties?”
“You’re bad.”
“Dirty. And bad. So, is that the appeal?”
“It’s definitely not your money,” I say while he pulls us onto the driveway by my house, dim lights casting us in a glow.
“Most women like the money,” he says, killing the engine.
“Which means you can’t ever know if a woman wants you for you or for your money. There’s a reason you’re what, thirty-five or thirty-six, judging by your career, and either divorced or never married.”
“Thirty-six,” he says, turning to me. “Never married and never plan to be married. I don’t believe in marriage.”
“Then I guess we are perfect for each other,” I say.
“Are we now?”
“For tonight,” I confirm, and when his lips quirk, eyes lighting, I quickly add, “That’s not a challenge.”
“Of course not,” he says, and there is the distinct vibe radiating off him that he knows something I don’t know.
“What does that mean?”
“Whatever I make it mean,” he says, giving a low chuckle before he adds, “I’ll come around and get you,” and he’s already exiting the car, clicking the locks before he departs. I turn to my door and try to open it, but it won’t budge. Frowning, I try again, and still it won’t move. Nick grabs the door and opens it, and I twist around to get out, and to go right along with the rest of my day, my skirt catches on my heel. Much to my distress, as I rotate to face him, the slit down the middle of my dress tears straight to my bare-naked crotch.
I gasp, and as much as I want to cover myself, my heel and my skirt are still not where they should be. But when embarrassment would kick in, Nick is suddenly squatting in front of me, his hands on my knees, his gaze sliding to my sex, lingering and then lifting to mine, the connection stealing my breath.
“If you’re trying to seduce me,” he says, his expression all hard lines and passion, before he adds, “it’s working.”
It’s cold outside, and I am warm all over. “I… That wasn’t the idea.”
He leans in and kisses my leg just above my thigh high, and then, to my shock, he leans in and licks my clit, and then he’s doing this slow teasing swirly thing with his tongue, and now I really can’t breathe. I brace myself on the dash, and just when I think I might melt right here in this car, Nick pulls back and stands, taking me with him.
I pant with the impact. “You can’t keep doing that to me,” I whisper. “Seriously. That is—”
He leans in and kisses me, hand at the back of my head, his tongue now doing that same slow, sexy tease he’d just done in much more intimate places, before he speaks: “I won’t stop next time. That’s a promise.”