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)
He blows out a breath and watches me carefully. Those intelligent eyes give nothing away.
“I can never understand what you’re thinking,” I admit. And I’ve grown up around men like him my entire life.
But with Dawson, I want to understand.
I need to know.
I need to know I’m not being used.
That I’m not the only one who’s vulnerable in whatever this thing is between us.
“I wanted to see how you would react in this situation.”
I scoff, angry. “This was to test me? Because I just decked one of your clients.”
“Well, that was an added bonus. But no, not so much to test you.” He seems to struggle with his words.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Dawson. Speak,” I demand. “Just give me something, at least.”
He seems hesitant as he brings his hands together. “I have, for as long as I can remember, used my body to display affection. This world I’m in is so much a part of me in every way, Honey, and you are not from here.”
I wrap my arms around my stomach, finally hearing a crack of vulnerability from him. This powerful man is finally giving me something to grasp on to.
“I have tried to fight my attraction to you. Yet here we are. I wanted to bring you here because, honestly, I thought you’d run.”
“You want me to run?” I ask in surprise.
“It’s selfish, but also, I can’t let you go,” he admits. “Won’t let you go,” he corrects, and a dark, brooding expression comes over him. “All of this is a part of my ugliness. And I’ve never at any point in my life had the urge to compensate or apologize for that. Until I met you. I’m not a good man, but I want to be the best version of me for you.”
I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. This moment of insecurity is the last thing I expected from Dawson. But it suddenly makes sense with the push and pull. The back-and-forth. The moments when I think he’s not entirely okay. And it’s the most honest any man has ever been with me. Not even my own father would reveal his weakness to me.
Slowly, I take a seat next to him. So this is his form of what? Approval? Maybe even acceptance? A man who doesn’t need or ask for any of that requests that of me? And not just any man. Dawson. Cleanly polished Dawson. He is a ruthless man. But I realize now, for me, perhaps, he is something more.
I feel myself heating up.
I want this.
And he knows that.
I can’t lie and say I don’t enjoy everything he does to me because I do. All of it. And I wonder if you’re supposed to feel this way toward every single person you sleep with. I don’t have much experience in this area, but I have always felt incredibly attracted to Dawson. There is absolutely no denying that whatsoever.
“I don’t think we should have sex,” I tell him, and I can sense his appreciation for the subject change.
“I think we should. I know how to make you feel good,” he counters.
“There are a ton of people downstairs.” I wave a hand behind me, glancing at the door. When I turn back to face him, he’s standing before me. He picks me up, then resettles me on my back, higher on the bed.
“Who cares? Let them hear.”
“Oh, you mean let them hear you telling me to cry for you?” I say with an eye roll as he hovers above me. He lifts a hand to the side of my face, next to my eye.
“I love it when you do. It’s only a few tears that escape. I know then that you are in a state of bliss. It’s hot…” He pauses. “I’m going to undress you now.”
“You first,” I say.
Dawson nods and steps back, his gaze intent on me the entire time. I watch as he removes each article of clothing until he is completely naked.
“Your turn,” he says.
I climb off the bed and turn around to give him my back. I push my hair to the side and look over my shoulder at him. He doesn’t waste any time before he steps up closer and ever so slowly unzips my dress, his fingers lightly brushing my skin on the way down. He slides it over my hips until it drops to the floor. When I turn around, his eyes are firmly on me. I’m wearing an expensive lingerie set from his store—the honey-colored one I loved so much. I didn’t wear it with him in mind. I just like expensive things and how they feel on my skin.
“Beautiful,” he breathes out as his fingers touch my breast and drag across it, making my skin prickle with need.
I stand, letting him look and touch, and all the while, my insides are screaming at me.