Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“It’s not like that,” I inform him.
“Yet here you are, at a family function. Want to know how many women Dutton has ever introduced to us?”
“Not really,” I mutter, which makes him laugh. “And it was more like I was dragged here by your son. Not that I’m not grateful to be here,” I add that last bit so I don’t seem rude.
“He’s brought none.” I turn back to him to see him raise a brow. “We wanted to meet you. And although we admittedly had to apply some pressure for him to agree to bring you, it doesn’t take away from the fact that he did, in the end, bring you… and your son. Dutton sometimes needs a push in the right direction.”
I laugh at that. “With all due respect, Mr. Taylor, you don’t know me. You don’t know if pushing him in my direction is the right thing. I’m a single mother, focusing only on her son and his future.”
“Yes,” Dawson agrees. “Which is precisely why you’re perfect for him. For all my son’s achievements, he needs to focus on something other than himself and his empire. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone take his attention like you have, and that speaks volumes, whether you or he want to admit it.”
I go to speak but can’t find the right words. The pressure of it makes me want to run the other way. I can’t outright tell his father we’re only having casual sex because it feels like it’d only offend him.
Dutton excuses himself from his conversation with Billie, and when Dawson notices, he turns to his wife and Bentley. “Now, Bentley, how about some ice cream?”
“He’s allergic to nuts,” I’m quick to say.
“Good to know,” he replies as Bentley hops down from the chair, and Dawson offers him his hand. Out of habit, I immediately reach for Bentley to protect him. But Bentley smiles big at Dawson and practically skips over to him, then slides his hand in Dawson’s. Just as they walk off, Dutton is back at my side. He makes no attempt to touch me. Slowly but surely, this man is learning to respect my boundaries.
“He’s safe. My father is many things, but kids love him, and he loves them. He was a great father.” I look at him then, taking my eyes off Bentley as he and Dawson go to the front of the restaurant to order the ice cream.
“You don’t need to sell me on anything,” I say.
“Sell you on anything?” He gives me a quizzical look.
“Yes. Why am I here, Dutton? My son is very important to me, and introducing him to strange people willy-nilly isn’t okay.”
His eyebrows furrow. “My family aren’t ‘strange people,’ and I wanted to introduce you to them.”
“Why?” I urge.
“You confuse the ever-loving fuck out of me. I could ask you the same thing. Why do you leave every morning before I wake up?”
I’m baffled. Is he really upset about that? I thought that’s what men preferred. No strings attached or awkward mornings. “We only agreed to fuck, not tell each other our life stories.” I give him my best eye roll and then look away to find Bentley again. He now has an ice cream cone in his hand, and Dawson hands him a napkin.
“Are you ever going to tell me who his father is?”
I sigh, irritated that he’s pressing me all of a sudden when he won’t answer my fucking questions. “He’s dead for all I care.”
“So he is dead, or you wish he were?” he pushes.
“Why are you asking so many questions but won’t answer mine?” I stare at him.
He reaches for my wrist, but I pull away. His eye twitches as he nods toward a corner of the room. It looks to be a private bathroom. “You clearly need to be punished.”
“You can’t be serious right now. Here?” I whisper-shout.
“Your son is safe with my father. Do you really think I’d bring you to a place where you or your son aren’t protected?”
I want to argue with him and tell him I never asked for his protection, but the urgency in his gaze has me stepping toward the bathroom. As we approach, a woman exits. After waiting until no one is paying us any attention, I enter, and Dutton slips in behind me. A light automatically turns on, and he locks the door behind us. It’s a powder room with two toilet stalls.
When I turn around to berate him, his lips crash into mine. My brain fries as I try to register what’s happening. He already has my hands behind my back, locked in a tight grip.
My body melts against him, all of my frustration rising to the surface.
“Why are you here?” he growls, pushing me against the counter. My arms begin to ache, but I appreciate the burn as I try to break free of his grasp.