Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“So, you’ll come to my townhouse when you want to see me,” he says casually. “Text me so I have your phone number.”
“Now?” I ask, glancing around.
He smiles. “Or later. It’s up to you.”
I look into his eyes as we stand under a streetlight. “We’re going to have fun.”
He nods slowly. “So much fucking fun and yes, I mean that just as it sounds.”
I bow my head. “It sounds divine.”
“I’ll take you home with me now,” he offers. “If that’s what you want.”
I crane my neck back and suck in a deep breath. “I want to text you later so you have my phone number.”
“That works too.” He leans forward to press a soft kiss in the middle of my forehead. “I’ll get you home. Let me flag down a cab or we can take the subway.”
“I can make it there on my own.” I smile. “Thank you for the offer, though.”
“Thank you for stalking my social media tonight, Delia.” He exhales softly. “I can’t wait to see you again.”
I can’t wait to see him again either, but I keep that to myself and brush past him, forcing him to turn around to get one last glimpse of me tonight.
“Goodnight, Delia,” he calls after me as I walk down the sidewalk toward Park Avenue.
“Goodnight,” I say while looking straight ahead with a smile on my face that’s bright enough to light the night sky.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Delia
I glance at the time on my phone. It’s nearing midnight but something tells me that Donovan won’t mind if I send him a text message now.
I keyed his number into my contact list as soon as I got home tonight. I considered sending him a text then, but I wanted a few hours to calm my thoughts before I send the all-important first text.
I’ve never been an over thinker when it comes to texting a man. I usually just say what I need to say and leave it at that, but this is different. I want to say that I can’t wait to feel his arms wrapped around me again. I wish he knew how desperately I wanted to kiss his lips tonight, but none of that is going in my text.
Instead, I opt for to take a different route. It’s something I know will put a smile on his face.
I type the message out and read it twice.
Delia: Can you believe the neighbor was the killer in Phantom’s Escape? Nicholas Wolf is a genius.
Laughter escapes me as I press send.
His reply is as funny as it is fast.
Donovan: Excuse me while I cry myself to sleep now that you fucking ruined it for me. Nothing that kid said about you being a nice lady was true, Delia. Not one goddamn word of it.
I rest my cheek against my pillow as I take a second to think of how to reply. Once I have it, I type it out quickly.
Delia: If I’m not nice what am I?
As soon as I press send, I hold my breath waiting for his response.
Donovan: That list is as long as I’m hard. You’re fucking beautiful, sexy as hell. You’re smart as a whip. You can dance circles around me…shall I go on?
I read it all but only focus my response on one word of what he wrote.
Delia: You’re hard right now?
He replies in an instant with one telling word.
Donovan: Very.
I stare at that for a beat too long because my phone starts ringing and it’s him! I answer immediately, “Donovan.”
“If you want to be fucked hard, Delia, come to me now.”
“Now?” I half-laugh. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m aching for you.” His voice is etched with the same desperate need I feel. “I’m hanging up and texting you my address. If you want my cock, it’s waiting for you.”
Before he ends the call, I’m up and out of my bed. I tug the red dress back over my head, slide my feet into the nearest pair of shoes and take off in the direction of my door.
I gaze at the massive white-bricked townhouse on East 74th Street in Upper Manhattan. I look down at my phone’s screen again to see if Donovan indicated an apartment or suite number when he sent me the text giving me this address to come to.
I ordered a rideshare as I made my way down the elevator to the lobby of my building. One of the doormen was more than happy to have a spirited conversation with me about the weather. I often tell him that he has a future in meteorology. He almost always responds that the tips are better in my building.
I gave him one tonight just for making me smile.
I climb the concrete steps. Since there isn’t a control panel or any buttons indicating there are multiple units behind the carved wooden door, I press the doorbell.