Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
But drinking has never really appealed to me, even if people my age are supposed to be guzzling it down. I know. I’m eighteen, I’m off to college in a few months, and getting drunk should be part of my regular day. That and sex, I suppose, but there’s another thing I’m not doing.
You know, ever. At least, not yet.
It’s not for lack of guys my age trying to help me out in that department, that’s for sure. But there’s never been anything like a spark, and I need that spark to be there if I’m going to finally let go of what I’ve held onto my whole life. And so long as guys my age think a “spark” is “we should do a shot and then you should come check out the backseat of my car,” then no thanks. I’ll pass.
But anyway, I feel like I’m doing enough bad things tonight, what with breaking into this office. So it’s just sparkling water that I sip as I move down the wall, my jaw dropping at a gorgeous Monet. In the quiet, dim darkness of the huge room, I lean close — not close enough to touch, but closer than I’d ever dare to get in a museum. I can feel the blood rushing through my ears as I move ever closer, and closer, and—
“What are you doing in here?”
The voice has me practically jumping out of my skin. I yelp, gasping as I whirl, the champagne flute dashing to the floor at my feet. My heart leaps into my throat as my eyes adjust to the darkness and slowly take in the man standing in silhouette against the big window by the door.
Damien.
I tremble as I take in his massive form — the broad shoulders, the big arms that bulge slightly at his perfectly tailored tuxedo. The clean-shaven, chiseled jawline, and those piercing eyes.
Green.
I can only see the glint in those eyes from the neon lights of the city, but I know that they’re green.
He growls as he steps towards me, and I swallow the lump in my throat as my breath catches.
“I’m going to ask you one more time, and I’d like an answer this time.”
His dark baritone voice is like whiskey and leather, edged in steel, and I can feel his very words pull at something deep inside of me as he approaches.
“Because no one is supposed to be in here, and yet here you are. Which leads me to believe you’re either a thief,” he growls the word out through gritted teeth, his powerful, demanding gaze drinking me in. His eyes slip over my black cocktail dress, which I know is probably a little shorter, and a little tighter than it should be.
His eyes flash in the dim glow of the room, and I can see the muscles in his neck tense as his gaze swallows me up. He moves closer, and I gasp. I stumble a step back, teetering slightly in my black four-inch stilettos before I feel the wall at my back. There’s a priceless painting hanging on either side of me, but his blazing green eyes are locked onto me and me only as he approaches.
“You’re either a thief,” he purrs again, his hands moving to either side of me, palms flat against the wall, pinning me there. “Or you're just a bad little girl who’d decided to go where she doesn’t belong.”
I gasp quietly at the words, feeling my whole body melt under that heated gaze of his.
“And you do know what they say about thieves and bad girls who go looking for trouble, don’t you?”
I swallow again, my breath catching in my throat as I slowly shake my head.
“No, I—”
“They always find it,” he growls. His eyes flash as he leans closer, and his huge body practically pins me to the wall, his warm, teasing breath hits my neck as he leans in and it’s everything I can do not to moan right there.
His hand grips my wrist, and this time, I do moan.
And then I feel it.
I feel it tingle over every inch of my skin, melting through every pore down into my core, where it sits there pulsing.
…Like a spark.
“And trust me, little girl,” he growls. “Trust me when I say you’ve definitely found trouble.”
2
Damien
The second I notice her at the party, the world goes still. Nothing else matters, and I instantly ignore whoever I’m talking to and forget whatever the fuck we’re talking about. Because in one second, there’s suddenly only space in my brain for this perfect angel stepping into the room.
I growl, watching her slink across the floor in that little black dress with those little black fuck-me heels, my cock pulsing to life in my tux pants. I watch her glide to the bar and come away with a glass of champagne, her gingery hair pulled over one shoulder and her sharp blue eyes flickering as she scans the room.