Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
He leaned down and kissed me between the tits, swiping his tongue over one nipple before giving me a playful bite. Then he unhooked his arms from underneath me, unfolded my body so I was flat, and then lay next to me like he was about to go to sleep.
In most cases, this was the moment I took my leave and found my way home. There was a big distinction between whore and lover, and I never forgot my place. I was paid handsomely to maximize pleasure and minimize headaches. Once my body relaxed and my breathing slowed, I started to leave the bed.
“I have you all night.”
I sat at the edge of the bed, steadied by his deep voice.
He threw all the decorative pillows off the bed and tugged back the sheets.
My nanny would be with my kids until I returned, so I lay on the soft sheets beside him.
He stayed on his side and kept the sheets at his waist, one hand behind his head, the other on his hard stomach.
It was easy to get comfortable, to lie there in his warm bed. The curtains were already pulled over the windows, so the city lights didn’t penetrate the darkness. With this big man beside me, I didn’t have a care in the world. Just when I closed my eyes and started to drift off, he was on top of me again. “Face down. Ass up.”
When I woke up the following morning, he was gone.
I put on the same clothes I’d worn the night before then headed into the foyer.
Grave was seated at the dining table in the other room, next to the windows that gave a view of Paris. The newspaper was open in his hands, and the table was laden with his breakfast. He was in nothing but his sweatpants, looking fresh, like he’d already showered. The skin over his biceps was a little red, like he’d already hit the gym before I even cracked my eyes open.
I approached his seat. “Morning.”
He lowered the paper and looked at me directly, his dark eyes more noticeably brown in the sunlight. He gave a slight gesture to the chair across from him. “Have some breakfast, and I’ll take you home.”
I took a seat. “I’ll take myself home.”
His eyes watched me closely, as if he wanted to protest but kept his mouth shut.
I liked that about him. He thought about his words before he spoke them aloud. He thought about everything before he did it. He didn’t waste his words but used them carefully and sparingly.
His butler entered the room and placed the egg white omelet in front of me then poured me a fresh cup of coffee.
Grave went back to reading his newspaper.
The silence was oddly comfortable. I barely knew the man, but it was easy to exist with him. It was easy to fuck him too.
I only had a few bites of my breakfast because I wasn’t a breakfast person. I’d rather hit the gym during a fast than feel sluggish from a meal. “I should get going. Thank you for breakfast.”
He folded the paper and stood up, like he intended to walk me out. The sweatpants were low on his hips, showing that carved figure. He was like a bison in human form.
“I can let myself out, Grave.” I drew close then kissed him on the cheek. “Call me.”
He was still as I kissed him, not turning into my lips or reciprocating. “I have a dinner on Saturday. I’d like you to join me.”
“Dinner?” I asked. “As in, a party?”
“Yes.” His eyes were like stone, lifeless.
“I’m supposed to be a dirty little secret.”
“You’re supposed to be whatever I pay you to be.” He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t look pissed off. But he controlled the room and everything in it, including me. “I’ll see you then.” He returned to the chair and opened his newspaper again, acting as if I had already walked out of the room.
NINETEEN
CAMILLE
We grabbed coffee at the café then walked past the shops in the village. I didn’t need anything, but when he asked if I wanted to go shopping, I didn’t refuse. It was rare to spend time with him outside the house, so I didn’t pass up the opportunity.
He had a black coffee, while I loaded mine with all kinds of sugar and cream. We walked by the shops together, and he carried my bags.
“See anything you want?”
His answer was a shrug.
“How do you normally get clothes?”
“They appear in my closet.”
Of course. “So, you never go shopping?”
“Not my thing.”
“Then why did you ask me to come today?”
“Because it’s your thing. Buy whatever you want, and I’ll carry it.”
I appreciated the gesture, but he didn’t need to buy me pretty things. “Can I pick out something for you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I’ll never wear it, and it’ll hurt your feelings.”