Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
I press my back against a wall, breathing heavily. I suddenly feel a little overwhelmed, like this party is over my head. But if I plan to really go through with applying to Club Crave, maybe this is exactly the initiation I need. Chances are I’ll see people doing things that are a lot more risque than hooking up in a bathroom. Still, would it kill them to lock the door?
I check several more bathrooms, finding locked doors and lines that are too long to wait in. My need to pee eventually overwhelms my good sense, and I scurry up the stairs, heels clicking loudly on the marbled steps. The music still booms upstairs and I can still hear the whoops and laughter from the party. I check several doors before finally finding one that’s unlocked. I step inside the room and cringe when I realize I probably just found the master bedroom. It’s absolutely massive. French doors lead from the back of the room to a beautiful patio with curving staircases that lead down to a terraced garden below. The garden is hedged in by tall, perfectly trimmed bushes.
My eyes slide past the king sized bed and lock on a strange, leather door set into the wall. I walk toward it, naturally drawn closer and closer, curiosity booming in my chest. I’m about to reach out and touch the door when another door within the bedroom swings open, nearly knocking me over. I stumble backward as a man in a towel steps out, head down as he rubs his soaking hair with a black towel.
Tanned skin. Broad shoulders. Eight-pack abs. My eyes dart from feature to feature of the masterpiece in front of me. He lifts the towel and cold gray eyes pierce through me. There’s no shame or embarrassment in his face, just a slight quirk of his eyebrow. He has thick, dark hair that somehow manages to fall perfectly over his face even though he was just drying it with a towel. I bite my lip, taking in the scruff dusting his startlingly defined jawline.
“Are you lost?” he asks.
His deep voice startles me. I jump a little, and realize I’ve just been shamelessly staring at him. “Sorry,” I blurt, cheeks blazing with heat.
“I asked you a question,” he says, somewhat firmly.
I’m startled by how direct he is. “A bathroom,” I say breathlessly. “I have to pee.”
His eyes take me in slowly, deliberately. I shift under his scrutiny. No man has ever looked at me like he’s looking at me. He’s appraising me like he might inspect something he just purchased, or something he already owns. The realization sends an unexpected thrill of excitement through me. I feel my core heat and my nipples harden.
“You can use mine,” he says, gesturing to the bathroom he just stepped out of.
I look down at the floor, nodding my thanks as I try to slip past him into the bathroom, but he doesn’t budge, forcing me to brush against his hard body. A wave of chills passes over me. In the brief instant we touched, I could feel the heat radiating from his skin and imagine what it would be like to run my hands down his smooth muscles and to have his hands on me.
I close the bathroom door behind me, giving me a merciful break from the intensity of his presence. I press my back to the door, sucking in heavy breaths like I just ran a mile. Men don’t have that effect on me. Years of fruitless sexual encounters and failed relationships have pretty much made me numb to attractiveness or sexual fantasies. But just looking at him and feeling his dominating presence actually has my core clenching from need.
I step through the steamy bathroom, admiring the huge shower with multiple faucets and trying not to picture him naked, bathed in hot, steaming water. I step past a discarded suit, slacks, and a pair of black briefs thrown on the ground. I guiltily look at the briefs, licking my lips.
I quickly use the bathroom and step back out into the room. I find him half-dressed. He’s wearing a pair of unbuttoned slacks without a shirt.
I avert my eyes, my mouth is suddenly dry. “Are you Mr. Steele?” I ask.
He half-turns, giving me just a glimpse of the rounded muscle of his chest. “Yes,” he says simply. “Are you an intern? I don’t recognize you.”
My stomach clenches. “Yes,” I say quickly. “I just started.”
He narrows his eyes at me. For a moment, I’m afraid he’s going to ask for more details, but he lets it pass.
“Right,” I say nervously. “Well, I’m going to go back…” I turn to leave, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder, making me turn to face him. The warmth of his hand seeps into me, sending my mind to dark places with even darker images of him bending me over the bed, having his way with me. Dominating me. I feel a chill at the thought. Is that what I want?