Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I know.” But he still moved closer, and turned her around to face the dresser. She could see his expression in the mirror, see the familiar desperation there that called to her. He ran his hands down her sides and back up to cup her bare breasts. “I could have you just like this. It’d feel so fucking good, and seeing every inch of you in the mirror would be…Fuck, there are no words.” He let go of one breast and slipped his hand into her yoga pants, stroking her. “You like that thought.”
“Yes.” She spread her legs a little, giving him better access. “But it’s still a bad idea.”
“Every single thing about this is a bad idea.” He kissed her neck, his finger drawing her wetness up and around her clit before he pushed it back into her. “Say yes.”
She wanted to. She could picture exactly what he described, could see him sliding her yoga pants off, spreading her legs farther yet, and pushing into her. The dresser was low enough that she’d be able to see him enter her, be able to see him watch her in the mirror as he took her.
I can’t. It’s too much of a risk. “No.”
He hesitated, and for a second, she thought he might press the issue. Sloan bit her lip, almost hoping he would. She wanted it as much as he did, all common sense aside. But that was the problem—common sense aside. In reality, they had likely just dodged a bullet. Having unprotected sex again was beyond foolish. Jude would realize that the second he started thinking clearly.
She gripped his wrist, all too aware of how much bigger he was, and pulled. He let her slide his hand out of her pants. “No,” Sloan repeated.
Jude exhaled harshly and gave himself a shake as if waking from a dream. “You’re right.”
“I know.”
He shook his head again. “I’ll find the fucking pill.” He left the room, left her feeling more alone than she’d ever been.
* * *
“Stop the car here.” Dmitri Romanov climbed out and paused to take in the building in front of him. It was a nondescript brick, with no windows and only a single service door. He’d seen many like it, though this one was being used for a distasteful purpose.
A rave.
Someone should tell the attendees that raves were something from the nineties and should be left in that godforsaken decade. Under normal circumstances, he would have sent one of his men if attending was required. That wasn’t an option tonight.
He nodded at his driver and strode to the door. A few terse words and the password—the password, God save him—later and he was inside, every sense assaulted. He stood just to the left of the doorway, attempting to adjust to the sheer onslaught of sensation. Multicolored lights strobed, music shrieked loud enough to make every cell in his body vibrate, and the whole room smelled of sweat and sex.
The things I’m required to do.
He searched the crowd, looking for one person in particular. His man had followed her here, watching as she slipped her guard detail and made her way to this building. Aiden, you haven’t been taking care of your possessions.
A flash of dark hair caught his attention, and he turned to find the very woman he was looking for staring at him, not ten feet away. Keira O’Malley had all the beauty of her oldest sister, but it was sharper, more likely to cut than seduce. She watched him with the jaded gaze of a woman who’d seen so much that nothing surprised her any longer. He took in the torn-up jeans that bordered on indecent and the shirt that hung from her thin frame, revealing a lacy black bra that was expensive enough to buy a night’s worth of drinks for every person here.
Dmitri waited, part of him curious to see how she’d react. Would she run? Attempt a poorly thought-out attack? But Keira gave him a look that only an idiot would mistake as anything other than a challenge.
And then she slipped into the pulsing crowd and disappeared.
He followed, with his familiar harsh expression that made people retreat. A small path cleared, and it was enough for him to move freely after her.
Except when he reached the other side of the crowd, she had disappeared.
Dmitri turned a slow circle, irritated at himself for being drawn in. Of course she’d used the crowd to her advantage and slipped away. She was likely halfway back to the O’Malley house by now. Fool.
“You’re looking for me.” A voice in his ear had him turning to find the woman in question less than six inches from him. She went up on her tiptoes, giving him a good view of her dilated pupils, and spoke in his ear—or, rather, yelled, because anything less would be drowned out by the sad excuse for music. “What brings Dmitri Romanov to a rave in Boston?” She leaned back and pressed a hand to her chest. He didn’t need to hear the words she mouthed to understand. Little old me?