Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“Fuck . . . off,” she snarls, and my face drops like a rock.
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
“No! What the hell are you doing having doormen advise you of my movements?”
I sigh and drop my head. I have to try and explain with words rather than actions. “Ava, I just want to make sure you’re safe. I worry, that’s all.”
“I’m twenty-six years old, Jesse.”
Yes, and that’s part of my problem. I’m hot, I know I’m hot, but I’m far from in my mid-twenties anymore. There are plenty of eligible bachelors who are, though, all with clean pasts and no demons, and they’re waiting on the sidelines ready to whisk her off her feet. And in that dress? “Why did you wear that dress?”
“To piss you off,” she snarls, fighting my hold of her. And there we have it. Pure and utter irrational behavior.
“But you thought you weren’t going to see me.”
“It’s the principle.”
Principle? Fuck that. It’s nothing but stupidity. I hope she realizes it now, and if she doesn’t, I’ll happily shred all ridiculous dresses until she does.
“You owe me a dress,” she mutters, and I smile, knocking her back a little.
“We’ll put it on our list of things to do today,” I say. I’ll buy her a million dresses, all beautiful, all expensive.
All below the knee.
But she’ll be stunning in them, and I’ll preserve my sanity.
The scowl that hits me is impressive. Then she rolls her hips up into my groin, and I fall apart on the inside. There she is. This mid-twenties woman who can’t resist this man who’s knocking on forty.
“What’s all that about?” I ask. She will beg. Show me how crazy she is for me.
I know the moment she grasps my intentions because her face drops and her body goes lax beneath me. “You don’t need to keep me safe.” She wriggles free and heads for the bathroom, and I roll onto my back on a drained sigh.
“That’s how much I care about you,” I say to the ceiling. Love! Love, you fool. You fucking love her.
I hear the door close, and slap my palms over my face, scrubbing them down my bristles. Idiot. I roll onto my front and shove my face in the sheets, giving the pillow a few thumps. “I love you,” I mumble. “So fucking much, I’m in constant agony because I’m not sure you should love me back.”
The door opens. I still, listening hard. The sound of her feet pads the carpet past me. She’s going into the dressing room. Oh, here we go. I have zero faith that my gesture will be taken well. Not after her performance this morning.
I creep off the bed slowly and take tentative steps to the doorway, chewing nervously on my lip. “Problem?” I ask when I find her gazing at her dresses.
She turns toward me, my toothbrush hanging from her mouth. I frown. She didn’t see her own next to it? Her eyes fall down my torso. I consider distracting her further and giving her what she was asking for in bed a moment ago, but she speaks before I can act. Or, at least, she tries to. “Wh . . . hell . . . roths . . . ing . . . ere.”
I can’t restrain my smile completely, not when she’s got toothpaste dribbling down her face and she’s looking at me with such outrage. “I’m sorry. Run that by me again.” I need time to consider my answer, and it’ll be something she can’t argue with.
Her nostrils flare. Oh boy. Keep it light, Ward. Today has to be a good day.
She waffles on again, looking like she’s foaming at the mouth. She kind of is. Exasperated, I collect her and carry her into the bathroom, setting her by the sink. “Spit.”
She spits like a bloke and swings back to face me. “What’s all this?”
I can’t take her seriously when she looks like this, so I lean forward and rid her face of all toothpaste with my tongue. Distract her. Yes, I’ll give her what she wants, and she’ll agree to anything I want. That’s how we work, and it suits me fine. “There,” I whisper, finishing at her lips. She breathes in, her body hardening. “What’s what?” I work my way to her ear, reaching between her thighs.
“No!” She shoves me away. “You’re not manipulating me with your delicious godliness.”
My shoulders roll. My chest swells. “You think I’m a god?” Then she is my temptress. My defiant, little temptress.
Ava snorts and turns away, and I move in behind her, crowding her with my godly body as she stares at me in the reflection of the mirror.
I’m so fucking hard for her. “I don’t mind being your god.”
“Why is my stuff here?”
“I collected it from Kate’s earlier. I thought you could stay here for a few days.”