Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
She relaxes into my hold, relinquishing herself to me, if only in this small way.
“What do you want to talk about?” Her voice drops, husky with quick-building heat.
“I don’t want to talk at all.”
“That so?” She leans up, taking my bottom lip between hers, eyes wide open and fixed on me. “What do you want to do then?”
I answer with my mouth, with my hands, with a kiss. Her fingers skim my neck, my shoulders, until she’s cupping my face and kissing me slowly, each stroke into my mouth deep and deliberate. My hips push into her, into her soft heat, and she pushes back. We moan into each other, my hand cupping her head, holding her still so I can penetrate the hot, wet heat of her mouth over and over, deeper every time. Her fingers work at my shirt buttons until her hands brush across my chest, making my nipples tight and hard. I feather kisses across her shoulder where the sweatshirt falls away, pulling the soft skin into my mouth. I push at the material with my chin until my mouth reaches her breast, the nipple already tight and plump before I even start sucking.
I don’t know what to do with this. I’ve never wanted a woman with this intensity. It’s more than the softness of her breasts pressed into me. More than the long slim legs that bracket my hips as I stretch her back on the couch. More than the heat of our bodies seeking each other. This feels so good, and there’s only one thing I want more than to be inside her body right now: to know what’s in her heart, what’s in her head. But I can’t stop. For the first time in my life, I literally don’t think I can stop. Me, the master of control, is spiraling into this heat so deeply I can’t remember why I should stop.
I won’t stop, and she won’t stop me.
But my phone stops us. Harold’s damn ring tone sings from my pocket.
“Dammit,” I mutter against her lips. “It’s Harold.”
“Don’t answer.” She reaches down, gripping my cock. “Stay with me, Bishop.”
I will. I dip my head to take her mouth again while her hand pulls on me through my pants. Just when I’m sure I’ll explode in her hands, the strident ring tone shatters the passion, no matter how much we try to ignore it. Sofie breathes heavily and pulls back.
“I think I remember him disturbing us last night riiiiiiight around this time.” She gives me a quick peck, pulling the sweatshirt up to cover her breasts. “You better get it. And tell Harold he’s a cock blocker.”
We both laugh, and I reluctantly pull away from her warm body, sitting up and pulling my phone from my pocket.
“The world better be on fire, Smith.”
“Were you busy?” Harold asks.
“Uh, I’m on a date, remember?”
“Oh.” A pause while he remembers Sofie. “Ohhhhhh. Sorry, man, but I thought you’d want to see this story on CNN. Are you near a TV?”
“Yeah.” I look at Sofie. “Remote?”
She opens a drawer in the ottoman in front of the couch and pulls out the remote, offering it to me.
On-screen I recognize Marcus Clarke, a South African businessman and current leader of the Collective, right away. He’s being led away in handcuffs, and the headline mentions financial misappropriations and sexual misconduct.
“Dammit, they found out,” I say to Harold.
“Yeah, so much for people thinking Clarke was just seeking other opportunities. I know you were hoping the truth wouldn’t come out, but looks like it has.”
“Thanks. Guess I’ll be dealing with this all day tomorrow.” I blow out a frustrated breath, flopping back into the cushions and watching the footage. “See you when I get home.”
“Yeah, we can compare dates.” His voice turns eager. “Henri and I had dinner again.”
“That’s a great idea, Smith. And maybe then we can give each other manicures and braid our hair.” I can’t help but laugh at him, but he can take it. We’ve been giving each other a hard time for nearly fifteen years. “What the fuck?”
“Okay, you’re right.” He laughs at himself and probably at me. “Night.”
“Yeah.” I hang up and study the shit storm playing out on Sofie’s flat screen.
“This is bad, right?” Sofie scoots close, leaning her head on my shoulder.
“Yeah.” I settle back, wrapping my arm around her. “We knew about all the things he’d done. We’re actually forcing him to resign, but we didn’t want to expose all of his misappropriations and other shit, not to protect him, but to protect the integrity of the Collective. So much for that.”
She tilts her head back, eyes concerned.
“What’s this mean for you?”
“Nothing.” I kiss the corner of her mouth before pulling back, studying the flawless bone structure and wide mouth that so obsessed Esteban Ruiz. “It just means the leader we choose will have to have a clean nose. Spotless, actually. Be above reproach in every way.”