Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Scandalized by her own thoughts, she inched back in her seat. Instantly she regretted it. The friction shot arousal through her.
“You’re the daughter of my biggest investor. A man who’s a trusted adviser. Someone I consider a friend.”
Pampered and protected. Unspoken, those words hung between them.
When she was at college in Houston, he’d assigned men to watch over her. He’d refused to use the term bodyguards, but that was exactly who they were. Once she’d realized he was having her followed, they’d had the biggest argument ever. Without telling her father, she’d applied for a scholarship to graduate school in New York and found a part-time job working in a crisis center so she didn’t have to touch her trust fund. Even though her mother had cried for days, Willow had remained resolute. She loved her parents dearly, but she needed to escape Houston and find her own place in the world. “Club rules prevent you from telling him. Your membership could be revoked.”
“I respect confidentiality. I would never betray that.”
“Fabulous.” Willow waved a dismissive hand. “I’m here to have a nice evening, and that’s what I plan to do. Quite frankly, you’ve done your noble deed, and you can feel good about that.” She slid from the barstool. “I hope you enjoy your evening.” Another lie. “No. That’s not true. After the way you ruined my night, I hope yours sucks.”
“Wait.” Jax’s word was as forceful as any pair of handcuffs, and the command in it rooted her to the spot.
“Sit back down.” The words were lethal. More than ever, she understood how he enthralled audiences.
An internal battle waged in her—obedience to a Dominant who turned her on, and an instinctive urge to flee from an asshole who made her tremble.
“Please.”
Anything but an irresistible entreaty. Willow wrapped her arms around her midriff.
“I want to talk.”
“I have news for you, Mr. Bigshot Internet Star. Communication is a two-way street. I know thousands of people hang on your every word and worship your advice like gospel, but I’m not one of them.” She was already so far in that she decided to go for broke. “In fact, I find you and your approach offensive.”
“Do you?”
Damn his dark soul, he grinned.
Those might have been the wrong words. Rather than offended, he seemed challenged and invigorated.
“Please sit,” he repeated.
The bartender meandered closer, putting away wineglasses, then leaning back to adjust the gold garter he wore around his biceps.
“No more threats?”
“I never threatened you, Willow.”
God. The way he said her name—breaking it into two syllables and trailing off in a whisper of seduction that shot rockets through her. He wasn’t just dominant. He was dangerous. “You’d have to promise to zip your mouth shut and listen to me too.” She marveled at her defiance of a man wielding so much power over her life.
“Agreed.” He extended his hand.
She stared at it. The one time they’d touched, she carried his psychic impression for days. This time, she was smarter. She ignored him and lifted herself back onto the stool.
He lifted one eyebrow in a mock salute.
Once she was as comfortable as she could be with him crowding her space, she reached for her drink.
He flicked a glance at her hand, looking for the X, she guessed.
“You came here to scene,” he said.
“Nothing gets by you, does it, Sherlock Holmes.”
He signaled for the bartender and ordered a club soda. “Look. Can we have a truce?”
Not with the way nerves zapped through her veins.
“You’re a sub.”
It was a statement more than a question. She’d had these discussions with numerous men, and none of them had disturbed her as much as he did. “I’m more of a bottom.” She swirled her straw around the inside of her glass.
Surprising her, he waited for her to continue. Aware that her words might someday be used against her, she proceeded with care. “I’m into kink, but not on a full-time basis.”
She paused while the bartender delivered Jax’s drink. Her body language must have changed since the man wasn’t watching them as intently as he had before. After ensuring they didn’t need anything else, he walked off.
Jax ignored his glass in favor of studying her. “Go on.”
“I don’t want to be in a submissive partnership, but I like…” How the hell was she supposed to admit this to one of her dad’s friends? “I like going out, and I crave impact play.” She took a drink that she didn’t want while she finished her thought. “It sets me free.”
“Impact by itself? Or sensation, such as clamps? Or a Wartenberg wheel?”
Willow shivered. Not because she was scared, but because the idea of the pinwheel of tiny metal spikes pricking into her skin intrigued her.
“Ice? Heat?”
With other tops, she’d negotiated implements, discussed her pain tolerance, agreed on safe words. No one else had asked about torturing her in other ways. “I don’t know.” She stared into her drink.