Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Look, I know you have reservations. But my divorce will come through very soon. And I want you to think about it not being so casual anymore.”
“It’s not casual for me,” I admit. “It hasn’t been for a while. But I don’t want you to hurt me, you stupid, yummy motherfucker.” I groan.
“Good that it’s not casual. And come on, Sara.” He laughs a low, sardonic laugh, tutting at me. “We both know that’s not what I want with you.”
Fuck this guy.
I want this, and I want him, and I reach out to grab the back of his neck and plant a solid, wet kiss on him so that he knows it.
* * *
That night, on our way back to his home, I feel a little tipsy and know Ian has had his fair share to drink too. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t have him, and I’m desperately trying to shake my fears out of my mind. Maybe it’s too soon to get involved with a man whose marriage just shattered. Sex is sex, but this isn’t just sex here, is it?
He leads me into his home and up to the bedroom, addressing the elephant in the room.
“You know that if I had a production company, I’d hire you on the spot?”
“And I’d dance exclusively for you.” I smile and kick my heels off. The move making me dizzy. “Then again, right now, I’d dance in a corner for free.”
Ian unbuttons and shrugs off his shirt, his muscles hard as he tosses it aside. “I’ve been thinking, and I don’t want you to miss this opportunity.”
Surprised, I unzip and start undressing down to my underwear. “I don’t want to miss it either, but I’ve been thinking too and…”
Ian raises his brows.
I sway on my feet, laughing when I almost fall.
“Would you care who you work for? Whether it’s someone you loved or hated? Would you care when you want it this much?”
“No, but…”
“But what?”
My stomach clutches in fear of my own feelings for this guy, so I press my lips together and playfully send my panties flying in his direction. “I want you more, you stupid Suit!”
“Stupid Suit.” He catches them in the air, looks at them, then straightens, narrowing his eyes as he walks forward, smelling my panties. “Stupid Suit…” he says, and I giggle and ease back as my hot Suit walks forward, shoving my panties into his slacks pocket.
The way he’s looking at me decimates me. I start to pant, unsteady on my feet as I back away.
I think I’ve had too much to drink. We both have.
And it’s been a crazy day. Ian is walking forward, and I’m backing away. My mogul starts to shake his head in warning. “Don’t push me away, Dancer.”
“I’m not,” I say, but I start rounding the room to keep from hitting a wall. Ian continues chasing me. His gaze narrowing, a slight confusion in his dark eyes.
I’m feeling raw and exposed, so vulnerable I want to hit him for doing this to me.
“You’re not the only one who’s scared, Sara. I’m a man who’s used to getting whatever I want. Women throw themselves at my feet. But reconcile that with being cheated on, on the infidelity spectrum?” He reaches out, seizes my arm. “I didn’t know what we had between us from that first night, and I wasn’t sure I wanted it, Sara.”
I stand there, absorbing what he’s just said, too afraid to believe in this. In this being able to happen to me, to him. Too afraid now that I know he’s been fighting his own feelings for me just like, maybe, I have for him.
And suddenly all my feelings for him boil in my heart to the point where I feel like I have two choices: implode inward, or explode outward.
I exhale shakily, my voice raw. “I’m afraid nothing lasts. Nothing, not even life. I’m afraid of attachment and loss and love and even loss of a love such as dancing. That things that can make me happy will one day be gone. And see? You’re not even guaranteed. I don’t even know if you’ll really want to commit once you’re free. You’re not even free yet! Maybe you’ll never be. You’re not even mine, Ford. What if by the time you’re free, you’re waffling…”
“I’m not waffling.”
“You just said you didn’t want to want this.”
He sets his forehead on mine. “But I’m yours.” A low growl.
“That’s not true. At the club, you said you wanted it to be serious, and then you come here and admit you didn’t want this. Admit it, Ian! You’re using me to feel better about yourself, and when you’re free of your wife you’ll be done with me,” I cry, suddenly, all my fears rising to the forefront.
“I’m not unsure about this. Dammit!” he growls, his gaze shooting bullets at me.