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)
* * *
His breath, that hot air that was against my ear, moves along the curve of my neck, his head lowering to my skin, his breaths quickening to match the fast beats of his heart, which thud hard against my breasts.
* * *
Oh, and that arousal. Hard and hot, a brand against my leg, my body twisting underneath his hands in order to put that arousal where it belongs, tight against my sex, the thin material of my shorts doing nothing but increasing the pleasure when I involuntarily grind against him.
* * *
He swears, his hand forcing my head to straighten, his mouth hesitating over mine.
* * *
I need it. I need it for no other reason than that I am bored, and he is here, a man who seems so simple compared to Nathan, so basic in his wary distance, his wandering eyes. I need his lips on mine, need that hard cock in more places than against the silk of my shorts. I grind again, one small movement that confirms the size of his need. He groans, and his hand tightens on my ass, pulling me against his cock as he thrusts against me.
* * *
His mouth makes the final move and closes the distance, his kiss almost desperate when it collides with my lips.
* * *
My heart pounds, body strums, and my brain screams in protest. Then Drew pushes off me, stepping back, and the moment is broken.
* * *
We stare at each other, the distance between the island and the fridge too small, our bodies too close. I must look like a mad woman—my hair wild from his hand, eyes needy, mouth panting. He stares at me as if he's afraid, his hands gripping the granite of the counter’s edge, his chest heaving. He suddenly moves, holding up his hands and moving slowly away. “Just … Fuck! Just stop asking questions. Please.” He moves away, and a moment later, a door slams in his wing of the house.
* * *
I worked at Sammy’s for three years. You’d think that length of time spent before men, gauging their level of arousal, would have taught me something—maybe the difference between harmless flirting and a danger zone. It would have given me enough experience to steer me in a direction other than the one I am in right now, which definitely feels like danger.
* * *
My hands shake. I hold them before me, staring at the tremor. I sink to the kitchen floor, picking up my water bottle, my tennis shoes slipping through the slick pool of water. I finish off the remaining amount, waiting for my heart to calm. I need to get to my room, need to separate myself from him, from this kitchen, from the freaking smell of Nathan that always lingers in this house. I need to take a shower, to lie down. I stumble to my feet, shoving the water bottle into the trash, and focus on putting one foot ahead of the other. I make it to the door and then to the deck, two questions dominating my mind, possibly the most dangerous ones of all.
* * *
What if Nathan finds out?
* * *
What if it happens again?
CHAPTER 26
8:30 AM. The phone rings. It’s a foreign sound, Drew or Mark typically walking over if anything is needed. I set down the toothbrush, scooping a mouthful of water into my mouth, and hurriedly rinse. Spitting into the sink, I hurry to the desk, and pick up the receiver. “Hello?”
* * *
“Mr. Dumont would like to leave in fifteen minutes. Will you be ready?” Drew’s voice is cold and efficient.
* * *
“He wants me to go with him?”
* * *
“Yes.”
* * *
I hesitate, looking down at my outfit, a Rosit Fenton ensemble. Cropped silk pants and a cardigan set. Bland boredom, which Nathan seems to prefer. “I’ll be there shortly.”
* * *
I hesitate in the moment before I open the door, seeing him through the glass, in the dining room, a dark figure in navy. Does he know about Drew? Is this about my father? Where could we be going? I step into the cool confines of the house, holding my head high, fighting to keep my features relaxed. He has a phone to his ear, his words low, and he turns at my entrance, his gaze drifting over me. He nods in approval, and a stab of irritation hits me. Will we ever be the couple that hangs out in sweat pants and pajamas? Will he ever crack a joke, or even a smile? Will I ever see Napa Valley Nathan in the privacy of our home?
* * *
He waves his hand, beckoning me to follow, and we step into the bright sunlight of the front drive, where Drew and the Maybach await.
* * *