Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
* * *
Dance.
Suck it.
I’m going to fuck you.
* * *
Maybe communication isn’t his forte.
* * *
I slip out of the bed, turning my back to the bodyguard, my mind whirring as I cinch the belt, the soft robe more luxurious than anything I have ever worn. I pull my hair out of the robe’s neck, stalling as I try to sort through things in my head.
* * *
“If you need anything, we’ll be on the balcony.”
* * *
I nod. “Thank you.”
* * *
He steps backward, out of the bedroom, and gently shuts the door.
NATHAN
“You need to be kinder to her." Drew speaks quietly, despite the closed balcony door, and the stiff ocean breeze.
"I don't want her to care for me."
Drew chuckles. "I don't think there's any fear of that. Right now, you need to be more concerned about her running from you."
"And go where? Back to that shithole house?" Nathan takes a long pull of bourbon. "She's smart enough to know better than that."
"I'm just saying, it wouldn't hurt to make her feel a little more comfortable. Especially if you want her to sign the papers."
Ah, yes. The papers. Just the thought of them filled him with a mix of anticipation and dread. In some ways, this plan was insane. In other ways, it was the only option.
He lifts the heavy tumbler to his mouth and buys a moment of time.
"Are we going to talk about tonight?" Drew's voice is as cold as he's ever heard it.
"Which part?"
"The part where you fucked her. I thought this plan was to do more of a wine and dine sort of thing."
The man has a point. But that plan had been concocted before he'd seen her body, before her lips had first wrapped around his cock. From that point on, it had only been a matter of when, and not if, he would fuck Candace Tapers.
He stands, glancing in the dark glass of the bedroom, the curve of her body barely visible under the spread.
"I'm gonna be married to the woman," he drawls. "It only makes sense that I know what I'm signing myself up for."
CHAPTER 10
Light streams through the open balcony doors, the smell of salt in the air, the sound of ocean waves soothing. I roll over, the sheets soft and smooth against my naked skin. I run a hand over the empty place where Nathan had slept. He had come to bed late, after I had taken a shower and lain in bed long enough to second-guess every minute of the evening. I had woken up when he had settled into the bed, the mattress moving slightly, the covers pulling across my hip. I hadn’t moved, had only waited, hopeful that he would slide an arm across my body, or plant a kiss on the back of my neck.
* * *
He hadn’t. He had lain as still as a corpse, his breaths shallow until the moment he had fallen asleep. I had wanted so badly, at that moment, to roll over and into his side, to rest my head on his chest and my arm across his body.
* * *
I haven't slept with a man since Seth. Most guys—the good guys—don’t want to date a stripper. Fuck them, sure. Actually sleep with them? Cuddle and caress? Nah.
* * *
“Good morning.”
* * *
I turn my head, my gaze colliding with a set of green eyes, ones that lead to a crooked nose, full lips and a few days of unshaven growth. The security guy. Some name that begins with a D. Drew.
* * *
“Mr. Dumont would like to speak to you.”
* * *
I stretch, a long and lazy motion that fully utilizes every inch of the king bed, then sit up, holding the blanket against my chest. “Do you mind getting my dress from out there?”
* * *
“There is a set of clothes for you in the closet. You may be more comfortable in those.”
* * *
I turn my head and eye the closet door. “Okay.”
* * *
When he leaves the room, I throw off the blanket and stand up.
* * *
The closet is empty, except for a few padded hangers. One holds a flannel set of pajamas, ones I would have appreciated last night. I roll my eyes and flip to the next hanger, which has a pale blue sundress and matching cardigan. I pull it loose, the tags snagging on the hanger, and I pause, carefully separating the items. My eyes catch on the price tag, and I let out a low whistle. Three hundred dollars for a sundress? A bit excessive for a sending-the-hooker-on-her-way outfit.
* * *
I pull the dress carefully over my head, leaving the tags on. I don’t work on Tuesday. Maybe I can return it then, assuming he bought it somewhere locally. I think again of the Nashville address on his license, and my stomach flips, a reminder of the fact that my life is about to return to normal.