Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“No,” I say, and I can taste the lie as it leaves my mouth.
“Lie.” He undoes his belt and holds the end of it in his hands. “Show me,” he demands, nodding to my dress.
“No.”
“Show me,” he says again as he stalks toward me, his belt held loosely in his hand. I don’t even notice I’m backing away from him.
“I-I have to g-go,” I stutter.
“Lie.” His other hand lifts to the buttons on his shirt. Fuck, is this really happening? And I can’t help but watch, transfixed, as his fingers flick open each button. It’s a mistake, a bad idea. But, surely, he’s not going to leave me again like last time if he’s literally the one taking all his clothes off in front of me.
Oh God.
“I can’t do this,” I insist, waving a hand between us. “This is wrong.”
“How?” he asks, continuing to undo his buttons. “We are consenting adults, and there is nothing wrong with this. Some might even feel satisfied by the fantasy of doing their boss.”
A shaky laugh escapes me, and he seems surprised by that. Because him being my boss isn’t my main objection. “You’re with someone.”
“I’m not with anyone,” he states.
“The beautiful brunette you came in with the other day. The cat lady.” I hate that he’s making me spell it out for him because it makes me feel stupid, but I will not be a sidepiece.
Understanding crosses his expression. “Would you like me to cut my contract with her so we can fuck instead?”
“Contract?” Every time I speak to this man, I become more confused.
Honestly, it makes me feel sheltered and stupid.
“Yes, a contract. You are the only person I haven’t asked to sign one yet,” he discloses. And although I have no idea what the fuck that means, he seems more perplexed by it than me right now. “But we should sign one.”
“Sign a contract?” I scoff. “I’m never agreeing to another contract in my life. The last one almost had me married to my sister’s husband.”
His shirt is now completely undone and hanging open as he stares at me. I can’t help but let my gaze roam over him. I can peek at what looks like a chestpiece tattoo. His tanned skin glows under the lights. Is that an eight-pack? He has ridges and dips I haven’t seen on any other man. And I thought his cock was impressive. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. And now all I can think about is his dick again.
Dick.
Dick.
Dick.
Shit! I’m back to that again.
“You need to leave.”
“No.” He drops to his knees and then taps his shoulder. “Hook a leg over and hike up that dress.”
I should run far, far away, but my breath comes out in short pants. This man is opposite to the world I know. He doesn’t make sense, but I feel his demanding tone.
He wants me.
And I want him.
But I can’t help thinking there’s more than just this. He isn’t acting like himself. Something’s upset him. And I want to be that distraction for him.
But I need to understand precisely what I’m getting myself into when it comes to Dawson.
CHAPTER 12
Dawson
“Get up,” she says, shaking her head and stepping back. “Please get up and get dressed.”
“Can’t say I’ve had any woman turn me down,” I tell her, standing but not bothering to do up my shirt or let go of my belt. I don’t know why, but since sending out feelers and speaking to numerous people after my conversation with Crue, I came here. To her. And I don’t understand that. But for the first time in a long time, I’m acting on impulse—just like with the tattoo—and it all has to do with her. I need to get her out of my system.
“I’m not turning you down,” she says, hugging herself. I know she wants this just as much as I do. I can read all the signs. “But I don’t want to do it here.”
“So you would rather go to a hotel?”
“Why do you have a contract with that woman?” Her hands fall to her waist as she asks me. Insecurity. Something I imagine very few see from this confident, beautiful woman.
“I have contracts with everyone I fuck. Almost everyone in my life has a contract of some kind.”
“Even your family?” She raises a brow.
“Yes, even them.” I try to hide the tone that always resonates when speaking about my fucked-up family, as it sounds so brusque.
“Why?”
I don’t know why she cares or has to know. It’s not something I often talk about, and I never go into depth. But being a Ricci daughter, she must understand this much. “Because everyone wants something from me. If I can stop them taking it, I will.” I imagine her father has a similar outlook on life. We might be in different businesses, but that doesn’t change the outcome. There is a reason why men like us stay on top because breaking a contract is as good as a death sentence.