Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Unused to such a strange sensation, I furrowed my brows, and the dishes on my platter rattled as I stared at the mountain of a man before me. I was unnerved by my reaction, and I didn’t quite like it. I liked being in control – always. It was the only way I felt safe.
Of course, the man wasn’t even looking at me. It seemed as if he hadn’t even noticed I’d bumped into him with all my might.
“Excuse me,” I muttered, but he stood still, not moving an inch, even though I cleared my throat like six times.
“What’s going on, Evans?” he asked in a booming deep voice that made me want to suck on his lips. Jesus fuck, what was happening to me? This man was driving me insane with a few words and his physical stature alone.
He was looking at the man who’d been bothering me, and the guy – Evans, I assumed – returned an angry look.
“Leave me be,” he slurred. “Just having a pleasant chat with this waitress.”
“Doesn’t seem like she’s enjoying it,” the man said calmly. “Why don’t you step away and let me talk to her manager?”
“What?” I asked incredulously, my heart picking up a beat. “You can’t do that. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
The thought of getting into trouble, of fucking things up for Veronica, made me feel sick. I thought I’d retch all over Mr. Trouble’s expensive-looking suit, but I managed to keep it in. Instead, I turned my pleading puppy eyes to his, but he didn’t even notice.
“Step aside, Evans,” he said.
“Fuck off.” Evans swayed and, being too focused on Trouble’s delicious smirk, I wasn’t careful enough and Evans landed right in my platter of canapés, sending it rattling to the floor.
By now, everyone’s attention was on us. Of-fucking-course. When I actually needed help, everyone ignored me. Now that I was in trouble? They might as well have shone a fucking spotlight on me.
With my cheeks burning up, I dropped to my knees and quickly started scooping up the food off the floor, gathering the cracked dishes and putting them back on the platter. I heard voices above me, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elliot glaring at me and wildly gesticulating for me to get back into the kitchen, probably so he could scream his head off.
I was in big trouble.
As I cleaned up, I noticed Mr. Trouble was wearing a pair of black leather boots, a bit of an unusual choice for a gallery opening, even if I wasn’t some kind of fashion guru. And his feet were unmoving, even though Evans had walked away moments prior.
Suddenly, one of the boots nudged my foot gently. I looked up from my kneeling position on the floor, and Trouble was staring down at me, finally acknowledging my existence.
I felt heat rushing to my center. I didn’t understand sex very well – apart from the stolen moments I shared with myself while my roommates were sleeping – but I could feel wetness growing between my legs, and I knew it meant fucking trouble.
“Get up,” Trouble told me.
“No,” I refused blatantly.
He shrugged. “Fine. I like you kneeling, anyway.”
As if my cheeks couldn’t get any redder, I picked up the platter and glared at him, finally getting up – an act of defiance. “Fuck you.”
“What a filthy mouth you have,” he told me with disdain, his eyes locking on mine. “A dirty mouth for such a proper, well-behaved little slut.”
I was blushing something fierce and my heart was pounding. “I beg your pardon?” I asked. I shook my head to get the thought out, strands of blonde hair leaving my chignon. I propped the tray I was carrying up on one hand, offering it to the man in front of me. “Crab cake?”
“I’m good,” he told me darkly. His eyes were on me. All over me. It felt like he was fucking me with his gaze alone, and shit, it was intense. My panties were flooded, a right mess in such a proper place. I felt chastised from his eyes, like he knew exactly what was happening between my legs. The man smirked, an expression full of pity on his face. His expression lingered, just a fraction of a second too long, before someone pulled him aside.
His eyes slid off my face, and I was forgotten. Just like that.
Left standing alone in the middle of the room, I cleared my throat awkwardly and walked off with my fucked-up platter. I was shaking, my legs threatening to give out. I had to hold on to the wall as I made it to the kitchen.
“What the fucking hell are you doing?” Elliot’s enraged voice cut through my haze. “You fucking dropped the food, Ver-o-ni-ca. If you don’t want me to strangle you right the fuck now, get a new platter and get the fucking hell out of my sight.”