Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
I slide into the Jeep, noticing he’s already wiped down my seat and door handle from the lemony scent of disinfecting wipes in the car. These little considerations keep throwing me off balance. Fake or real, he’s far more thoughtful than any guy I’ve come across in years.
“That’s debatable. It’s our first date, and I only know a fraction of everything there is to know about you. Also, that’s not an answer.”
“No,” he agrees, starting the engine. “It’s not.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
Lee glances away from the road and right at me. “What would be the fun in that?”
I frown. “There wouldn’t be much fun, but at least I wouldn’t be anxious. I thought we were going to a restaurant to have dinner.”
“You’re worth more than a five-star dinner, Salem. You deserve it all.”
Why does he say things like that? He can’t, shouldn’t.
We continue driving past all the restaurants I researched. Past the safe, quiet places I’d prepared myself for. Past everything familiar until—
“No.” The word comes out sharp when I spot the neon sign for Pulse. “No way.”
“Yes, way.” Lee parks but doesn’t unlock the doors. “I know you’re scared and afraid of something different, but if we want this to look convincing, we need to be seen and not just at some restaurant. The nightclub is perfect. At least one person there knows my family and will happily report back to a member of the Sterling crew. It’ll make waves, which is what we need.”
“Are you sure about that?” My voice rises. “Do you know how many people? How many germs? How much—”
“I called ahead.” He turns to face me, all playful pretense gone. “VIP booth. Clean surfaces. Security will keep crowds back. I’ve thought of everything.”
“Lee … but?”
“Remember rule number one?” His hand finds mine, thumb tracing over my nitrile-covered knuckles. I went for black ones tonight to match my sweater at least. “You have to let me push your boundaries sometimes.”
I stare at the club entrance, cataloging threats.
Crowds (approximately one hundred people in line).
Exposed surfaces (countless).
Potential contact points (infinite).
“I can’t—”
“You can.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s not that you can’t; it’s that you’re afraid. I’ve got you. We’ll be here for three hours, tops. Then we go home, and I’ll let you sanitize everything twice.”
“Three times,” I counter automatically.
His smile softens. “Three times.”
The bass from the club vibrates through the Jeep, matching my racing pulse.
“VIP booth?” I ask weakly.
“With sealed bottles only. And I already wiped everything down.”
“Three times?”
He laughs, low and warm. “Got there early and did it three times. Just for you.”
Something in my chest cracks open at that. At how well he knows me already. At how much effort he puts into making me feel safe.
“Okay.” The word comes out as barely a whisper.
“Okay?” His eyes light up with surprise.
“Three hours,” I say firmly. “Not a minute more.”
“Deal.” He kills the engine but doesn’t move to get out. “One more thing.”
“What?”
His hand slides up to my neck, his touch careful but sure. “Remember, we need to look convincing.”
Oh.
The kissing.
The part I wasn’t supposed to think about. It doesn’t matter, not really, since my brain short-circuits when his lips descend on mine. He tastes like mint and possibility. I don’t understand how, but I forget about the club, the crowd of people, the germs. All those things vanish in the wind.
Reality slowly funnels back in when he pulls back. His pupils are dilated, and his chest heaves as he breathes. “Ready now?”
I suck a ragged breath into my lungs and give him a quick nod. Fake. This is all fake—the kiss, his reaction, every smile and touch. It’s not real. He doesn’t want me, I tell myself—but my heart is already invested.
He wastes no time in rushing around the Jeep to open my door. I wish I had the same confidence he does. We go inside, skipping the line as the bouncer at the door gives Lee a jerk of his chin to allow us access.
Whoa. It must be nice to walk right into a place like that. Oh wait, shit. I just did.
My cheeks heat, my anxiety climbing higher as the bright lights, booming music, and scent of alcohol and sweat permeates the air. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong, but more than that, what if someone touches me? What if they see my gloves and laugh?
Lee gives my hand a squeeze as if he can sense my brain wandering to dark places. You can do this. Against my instincts, I let him guide me through the club while I tuck my head low and keep my gaze glued to the floor. I count each step we take and shut out my surroundings.
Sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six.
I know we’ve reached the VIP section when Lee’s steps slow. I squint against the bright lights and take in my surroundings, the anxious boulder in my gut shrinking. The VIP section is better than expected—elevated above the crowd, with clear sightlines to all the exits.