Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
“Zoe,” I cut her off, rounding her desk to stand in front of her, tipping her chin up so she meets my eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for,” I say. “You didn't leave me hanging. Not even close. And I was happy that you enjoyed drinking champagne with your friends last night,” I continue. “I'm glad you felt safe enough with me to let loose. I'm not sure if you get to do that too often.”
She smiles up at me, shaking her head slightly. “Where did you come from?”
I tilt my head.
“It's like you have some kind of superpower,” she continues. “First, you're so irresistible that I wanted you when you were hidden behind a mask, and then last night happens and you're right. I feel so safe with you, Owen. I've never had that before. I've had a couple serious relationships, but any time I'd get wild like that I’d get lectured about it, them saying I was making a scene or being too loud. I don't think you know what it means to me to be able to be myself without having to worry.”
“Fuck those guys,” I say, sliding my hand along her cheek.
We’d had the exes conversation during our texting sessions. Knowing what I know now, I imagine she's been with political types, men concerned with social proprieties that I’ve never even considered.
In my line of work, either at the club or with my private clients, social rules and class statuses didn't matter.
“You're never too loud,” I continue. “And you're certainly never too wild. If you haven't noticed, I like your passion.”
Zoe bites back her smile, her eyes flicking from mine to my lips and back again.
With just that look, I want her.
She reaches for me, almost like she’ll kiss me right here in her office—
“We can't,” she says quickly, blinking a few times and taking a step away from me.
“Here. Not that I wouldn't want to. God, I'd love for you to take me right here on my desk. I mean...” She cringes, and I smile at her adoringly. “I have a client coming in ten minutes and even though I know what you're capable of with even less time than that, I have to keep some professional boundaries.”
“You got it,” I say, unable to contain my smile or the pride filling my chest at just how flustered I make her. I head toward the door, pausing as I look over my shoulder at her. “Do you have a desk at your house?”
Her rich brown eyes flare. “Yes,” she whispers.
My smile deepens. “Good to know.”
I head out of her office, grinning at the sound of the soft gasp that radiates from her as I head to my work space. I force myself to focus on the case at hand but have a really hard time when images of her sprawled out in her home office, propped up on a desk and me buried between her thighs keep popping into my head.
CHAPTER 8
Zoe
Despite the workday being a great one, I can feel the length of it in my bones.
I made incredible progress with several of my patients today, and they put in the work to have breakthroughs of their own, but it’s definitely worn me out.
But no matter how long the day is, walking out of my office to see Owen waiting for me sparks me with energy I didn’t know I had in reserve. He looks gorgeous as ever in a simple pair of slacks and a black T-shirt, his beautiful ink decorating his arms and neck. Just the sight of him sends warm shivers along my skin.
I can't stop thinking about the gala last week, and how we haven't revisited any sort of physical intimacy since.
Conversational wise, there's been plenty of growth and bonding, my affections for him only deepening now that we get to have these conversations in person.
And yet, even though I see him throughout the day, and he escorts me home at night, he still sends me a text when he gets back to the apartment he’s renting for the duration of his assignment. I thought for sure he would’ve grown tired of the constant communication and forced proximity between us, but it seems it's had the opposite effect on both of us.
“Good day?” Owen asks as he follows me through the hallway toward the break room, helping me gather Gregory’s dishes and food.
“One of those days that’s been incredibly productive and completely exhausting at the same time, but in a good way, you know?” I answer, propping open the back door.
We set the dishes down, and take our places leaning against the opened doorway while we wait.
“I get that,” he says, eyes on the black and white cat stepping out of the wooded area and moving across the parking lot toward us.