Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
He leans down until we’re at eye level, his breath spreading warmly across my cheeks. I should freak out, pissed that some older man is trying to take advantage of me, right? He probably does this with all the interns. There’s hunger in his eyes, a glint, or maybe I’m imagining or hoping.
“Did I see you yesterday?” I ask finally.
He smirks. “Yes, you did. I couldn’t stay away.”
“Wait, what?”
Electricity sparkles up and down my hips when he grabs hold of them, his strong hands sinking in, and his lips are on mine. I barely have time to register what’s happening, wondering if this is another jet-lag trick. No, not another. He was there last night, watching me. He couldn’t stay away. What the heck does that mean?
His grip gets even more possessive, hungry hands sinking deeper into my body, making me feel more wanted than I can believe. He groans as he opens his mouth.
It’s not like I choose to kiss him back. It’s more like instincts take over, guiding the way, telling me to kiss this stranger.
CHAPTER FOUR
Thomas
I’ve already gone too far. Even being here is too much. I know about George’s tradition of personally greeting his interns. I knew Amelia was going to be starting today. So, like an obsessive predator, I hunted. I rushed here, knowing that there was a chance I’d be alone with her, but I didn’t plan past that. I didn’t know if she’d seen me outside in the rain.
Now I’ve told her I couldn’t stay away. I’ve crossed that line and another. This kiss and the hunger it ignites roar at me to take her some place private just for us—somewhere I can own every single part of her: physical, emotional, and everything in between.
She returns my kiss, moaning gently. I indulge in her hips, massaging them until she pushes her hand against my chest. For a second, we keep kissing, but then she shoves me.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, her voice quivering, telling me she doesn’t want me to stop but feels she has to make me.
Pride? Honor? No, jackass—I’m talking to myself here. She’s probably freaked out. A complete stranger shows up at her rented room and now her workplace, kissing her without explanation, but hell, she kissed me back.
“What feels right,” I growl, then kiss her again.
Our tongues magnetize each other. Nobody could tell me this wasn’t instinct, a primal compulsion for both of us. Maybe she’s confused, but her body isn’t. Her lust isn’t. Her desire flames in every touch. She moans as she rubs herself against me. She moves up and down, her curvy breasts and belly brushing against my body, but then she pushes away for a second time.
“Why were you at the house yesterday?” she gasps. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“You don’t need to understand,” I snarl.
It’s not much of a response, and even as I say it, I hear it. It’s like it comes from somebody else. I think how bloody ridiculous it is to say that to her when a complete stranger has just barged in here and started kissing her.
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. It’s more like it’s the only thing she can think to do.
“Uh, I kind of think I do.”
My answer is to kiss her again. Both hands are against my chest this time, squeezing down so I can feel her fingernails scraping against my pecs. She moans through the kiss, that cute-as-fuck muffled moaning that sounds so urgent, so insistent.
Even with our lips pressed close—searing heat, tingling nerves—I can hear the American in her accent. That turns me on how exotic and different she is. Sure, I could have an entire room of American women every night if I wanted. A different room filled with different women, but I don’t want that—only my woman.
My hands smooth around from her hips toward her ass. I slip them down, squeeze, and start massaging her voluptuous body. She shivers, grinding up and down as if chasing the pleasure at the end of my fingertips. There’s so much lust bursting from me—my cock rock-hard, the tip pushing into my boxer shorts.
“This is crazy.” She pushes me forcefully, slipping out of my embrace, waving her hands as if swatting invisible fireflies. “You have to explain. You were at the house, weren’t you?”
“I’ve already told you I was,” I grunt.
My tone isn’t fair. However, when she asks about the house, she veers close to my obsession and the truth that I’m basically a stalker. I’m hounding her, following her, knowing that no other woman can ever compare.
“So explain.”
How can I explain I was cold and dead inside before I laid eyes on her? I was alive to certain things, like the thrill of a business meeting and the buzzing victory of a boardroom conquest. However, regarding love, affection, and finding somebody to share a life with and start a family… Nothing until her.