Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
And then he glanced at me, and I felt my step falter before I quickly righted myself, before I felt him pull me in a little closer to steady me. The intensity in his gaze sent a chill up my spine. Logan Mathis was so large and powerful, with wide shoulders and muscles I could see clearly pronounced through the expensive material of his suit. I thought about the car ride here, how his form seemed to dwarf the interior of the limo. Yeah, he’d gone and picked me up in a limo, as if I were Cinderella.
I was far from it.
He helped me into the limo, the driver holding the door open for us, not speaking, almost appearing like a statue. I would never know or even understand this kind of lifestyle. I didn’t come from money, didn’t have wealth. I was just a simple girl living in the city, being raised by a single mother who worked her ass off to keep us afloat, but never really tasting life because it was about surviving, not the frivolous things.
But I knew Logan had traveled the world, had amassed a fortune and a successful business in his mere thirty-six years. I admired him, not because of that wealth, but because I could see it hadn’t gone to his head.
And underneath the façade of having it all together, of the prim and proper wordage he used, the almost stiff composure and business-like aura he had, I saw this sadness that resided deep within him.
I moved all the way to the other end of the limo and watched as Logan climbed in. His body barely fit in the confines of the car, and his long legs, stretched out in front of him and slightly spread, showing just how muscular he was. He shifted enough so he could remove his suit jacket then draped it on the seat beside him. I didn’t want this night to end. I didn’t want my time with Logan to be over already. But we were out of time. Our night was finished, his charity obligation over.
I don’t know why that had this pang of distress settling in my chest.
Logan rolled up his shirtsleeves, the white material pushed up to show his muscular, tanned forearms. He appeared relaxed and in control as he stared out the window. The car started moving, and I knew I was being taken home.
This wild, insane image came to my mind, one that had me acting totally out of character, had me just throwing caution to the wind and going after what I wanted.
And that was Logan.
I’d never even thought about being so wanton, but God, staring at him just sitting there, his body so masculine, had every part of me lighting up. I was aroused, wet between my legs, my nipples hard and pressing against the material of my very simple dress. Compared to him, I was as plain as they came, probably reminiscent of his help.
And then, as if he felt my gaze locked on him, he turned his focus to me. I didn’t miss how his eyes became hooded, or the fact that he lowered his attention to my lips. I licked them again on instinct. I had a good half-hour before we arrived at my apartment. A lot could happen in thirty minutes if I was brave enough. Because the truth was, I doubted Logan would advance anything. I doubted he’d make the first move. Even if he wanted me, which I hoped he did because of the looks I caught him giving me, he seemed like a man in control. Always.
And if the looks he’d been giving me were nothing more than my overactive imagination, my inner needs and desires being projected, then the worst that could happen is a moment of humiliation. I’d never have to see him again. I probably wouldn’t no matter what.
But I found myself averting my gaze and staring out the opposite window, too nervous to be so wild and bold. My hands shook, and I clasped them together on top of my lap, trying to still them. I was too inexperienced to try anything like this, to want anything like this. And as the seconds moved by, as I still felt his gaze on mine like a thousand fingers skating over my body, I remembered seeing him from across the room at the auction. The sensation had been the same, so pronounced it left me breathless, just like right now.
“Beatrix,” he said my name deep, low. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, telling myself not to let the simple act of him saying my name make me come unhinged. “Look at me, Beatrix.” His voice possessed a rough timbre that had my nipples tightening even more. There was no way I could disobey him.