Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Bash swiped his key card and hit the button for the top floor, then leaned against the wall, facing me. His eyes met mine, sending a hot flush racing across my skin that made my clothes itch.
The woman beside me darted a look up at my sombrero—which was taking up a significant amount of space—before quickly glancing away.
“I brought burritos,” I explained.
I carried a watermelon.
Belatedly, I realized this didn’t really explain my presence since there were no burritos on my person. The woman snorted softly. The man next to her hid his laugh behind a cough.
Bash’s lips quirked like I’d been talking to him. “Thank fuck you did. You’re a hard man to get hold of.”
Was I? Since I was forcibly restraining myself from jumping into his arms, I didn’t think that was accurate.
I glanced at the woman and swallowed hard. “Yes, they are good burritos,” I said with a strangled laugh. “It was very kind of you to offer a tour of your office, Mr. Dayne.”
Bash shook his head, still wearing that little smile, still lounging against the wall with casual elegance. His eyes caught the light in the elevator, and I thought for a minute I might turn into a sombrero-topped puddle right there at his feet. It would serve me right for being harebrained enough to go with him when I should have buzzed right out the front door and burned off my need with a long-ass walk back to Queens.
The silence in the elevator was electrically charged and excruciating. I couldn’t imagine what the people stuck with us were thinking.
“If you ever wanna see the inside of the Burrito Mobile,” I went on, “just let me know, and I’d be happy to repay the favor.” My nervous babbling was reaching entirely new heights.
Thankfully, the elevator doors opened before I could say anything more, and the other passengers hurried off. Unfortunately, it turned out to be our stop, too.
“Where are we going?” I asked, following Bash down the hall to the right when the others had turned left. “I should probably get back downstairs before I miss my ride. Lea doesn’t take kindly to rogue banditos.”
When he passed the open door to an office, a dark-haired man jumped up from his desk and called out. “Bash, did you get a burrit—oh,” he finished when he clocked me trailing along in Bash’s wake. “Well, damn.”
“Kenji, hold my calls,” Bash said without slowing down. “I’m about to get some answers.”
“Okay, but—” Kenji began.
Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off when Bash dragged me into his office and slammed the door shut. His hand shoved my chest until my back hit the closed door, and then his mouth crashed down on mine like a lightning strike. My sombrero went flying… and so did all the reasons why being in Sebastian’s space was a tragically terrible idea. Bash was hard and hot and strong, pressing me into the door with his hips and chest, grappling with me until he had my arms crossed above my head, wrists clasped in one of his large hands. His other hand gripped my throat just firmly enough to tilt my face the way he wanted it.
I kissed him with a hungry intensity I seemed to only feel in Sebastian Dayne’s presence. The room spun wildly around us as his scent and touch and the sounds of our desperate kisses filled what little space remained between us.
When he finally pulled his head back, it was only so he could run his thumb over my fake mustache, his eyes sparkling with silent laughter.
I’d forgotten I still had the damn thing on, and my face went hot. “Shoot. Sorry.” I peeled it off and stuffed it in my pocket. “Was it weird kissing a man in disguise?”
Bash’s voice rumbled with sensual promise. “Kissing you always feels incredible, no matter what identity you’re using.”
The man needed to stop saying such sweet things. How was I supposed to convince myself that none of this was real when he looked at me like that?
“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about u-us,” I accused.
“I lied.” He leaned closer again, running his nose along the edge of my jaw and inhaling deeply. I prayed he was smelling soap and not extra-spicy red sauce.
“Bash,” I protested, feeling my knees go weak. I needed to leave or for him to throw me down on the nearest surface and have his way with me and then leave. At this point, I wasn’t sure which would hurt more.
He heaved a heavy sigh. “I very much want to talk about us, Rowe. But first…” He let me go, then stepped back. When he gestured me toward one of the chairs in front of his desk, I was finally able to get a glimpse of his office. One whole wall was windows, looking out over the city. Reflected light from the nearby buildings made the whole office sparkle. On the wall by the door was a large seating area with a couch. And in front of the window sat an enormous black desk. It was stylish and modern without being cold. Very perfect for Bash.