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)
She nods in understanding and then steps past me. Her eyes are glued to my stomach, and part of me wishes she’d rake her nails over me as she walks past, simply to give me something… physical. I’ve never been in a position where I’ve been denied touch. If anything, too many touched what they do not have the right to.
But her? I want her touch.
Fuck, I even sought it out tonight.
Honey opens her locker and grabs her purse before moving to the door where I stand. She looks me up and down again, biting her bottom lip. I don’t even think she’s aware that she does it. Then her almost silver eyes find mine. Fuck me, she has no right to be this beautiful.
She leans over and I can’t help but rake an appreciative glance down her enticing body. This woman is making me crazy. She offers me my jacket from the floor and says, “I’m hungry. You should feed me.”
I take the jacket, almost dumbfounded, and blink a few times. I’ve never been rejected before. And God fucking knows I need a release because this little honeypot has had me twisted for weeks. She flicks off the light and walks toward the office door, waiting for me. “Where to?”
“Well, I already know what I want to eat,” I tell her with a lustful grin as I button up my shirt. This did not go the way I thought it would. And yet, I find it almost amusing.
“What?” she asks.
This woman’s genuinely innocent, I know that much. But to what extent?
Fuck! Would I break her? Do I want to break her?
“You, but you just told me no.” Her gaze finds the floor before her cheeks redden. “So I guess food will do, for now.”
I slide my belt back on and buckle it before I slip into my jacket. “And how do you think your bodyguard is going to take you going out on a date with me?”
She pauses at my words. “It’s not a date. Can’t two friends have dinner together?”
“I’m not your friend, Honey,” I all but growl. I don’t do friends. Crue is a very loose exception.
“Yet,” she says with a smile that lights up a room.
Does she even know that she has that effect? That despite all the shit I carried with me today, that fucking smile ripples the tension out of me. And I hate it. I hate how effective it is. She’s like a bright fucking sun to my darkness and sins.
Her father has good reason to be wary of me. And yet, selfishly, I want to revel in that light, if only for one night.
The bodyguard is a problem, though.
“Come here,” I instruct and offer my hand.
Honey eyes me cautiously but slowly steps toward me. Her hands are soft and small in comparison to mine. And I roll my thumb over her knuckles appreciatively.
“Let’s sneak out through the back and walk instead of taking my car. Let’s see how long it takes your bodyguard to find you.”
She pouts. “I don’t want to get Marco in trouble.”
There it is, the good girl. Does as she told. But she’s so much more than that.
I sense her desire to break free.
Isn’t that why she came to New York after all? No contracts? No rules?
I lean in and whisper seductively, “Don’t you want to break the rules just once?”
It’s foolish, but I sense that this girl has never snuck out, partied too hard, or stepped out of her role. And now she thirsts for it.
Her gaze locks with mine, and I know I’ve hit the mark.
New York is big, and I realize Marco will find her eventually. I can’t help but feel satisfaction in knowing that this will piss her father off. Perhaps I’m playing with the devil a little, but it was him who smothered her. And she will always be safe with me.
Honey bites her bottom lip, and a small, uncertain smile lights her face. I was right coming here. She has been the perfect distraction. Usually, I wouldn’t seek out a distraction with how serious the situation at hand is, but I had to see her. It definitely wasn’t what I expected.
“Any suggestions on where to go?” I ask.
“I’ll eat anywhere. I forgot lunch today. We were busy, so I didn’t get anything. You pick,” she says as I grab a leather jacket from our dominatrix apparel in her size off one of the racks and offer it to her. I know it will be cold out tonight.
She looks at the jacket and then stops dead in her tracks as I lead her to the bathroom.
“What?” I ask.
She wraps herself in the jacket and flicks her hair over the collar. “We don’t have a back door.”
I laugh—an actual legitimate laugh escaping—at the fact she only now realizes that as I open the bathroom door and walk to the back of the powder room. I step up on the red leather couch and prop open the window.