Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Braxton is staring up at me from the bottom of the staircase, those crystal-blue eyes darker than usual in the dimly lit club.
He’s here, tracking me again. I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not. The man’s tenacious, especially coming here when I’m with my cousin. It brings me flashbacks of the night we first met, and I’m quick to shove those down because I am not going down memory lane with this asshole.
I hold my head high, descending the stairs and pretending like I don’t know him. I can tell in my peripheral he’s smirking, but I pay him no attention.
The moment I reach the bottom of the stairs, he clasps my wrist.
“You weren’t attempting to walk by without saying hello, were you?”
My gaze snakes over to his, and I’m forced to look up through thick eyelashes, even when wearing heels. I try to pull my hand back, but he doesn’t let it go. Even though I’m still one step up, he’s still taller than me. His scent of sandalwood drifts over to me, and I hate how it impairs my judgment. Or maybe that’s the tequila. “Hello, Shortcake.”
I want to say it’s the alcohol that forces me to suck in a sharp breath, trying to counter the heavy impact his smell has on me. And it couldn’t have anything to do with his beautiful fucking face with those plump lips. Said lips quirk up, but he quickly hides it as he leans in and drops his mouth beside my ear. “Did you miss me?”
“No. What’s there to miss? A middle-class man skipping out on his duties to harass a woman who’s not interested? I’m quite all right, thanks.”
His smirk grows, and it causes butterflies in my lower stomach because only this man has ever reveled in my scathing words. But he lives for the challenge.
“‘No’ seems to be your favorite word. But I once remember you screaming another once upon a time. If memory serves correctly, it was my name.”
I scoff, and his other hand cups my jaw. And tiny prickles erupt like a kicked hornet nest all over my skin. It brings me to life, startlingly and painfully, and I meet his gaze. “I got your present. I liked the colors.” The compliment washes over my skin like he’s the very thing that both antagonizes and soothes me.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie. Does he really like it? I won’t be baited by such an easy question, but I wonder what he really thought. I consider what his criticism might’ve been.
“You’re lying,” he says.
“Surely, you’re a better detective than this,” I tease, purposely hovering my lips near his. He inhales my breath, and the warmth of his flushes over my own lips, creating a tingling sensation. I remember what he tastes like. Memories flood my mind of heated, painful, and destructive sex.
My first time.
I pull away with a conniving smirk, but he doesn’t remove his hand from my jaw as his gaze lingers on my lips.
“You think this cute little innocent act fools everyone, but I know how dangerous these hands of yours can be.”
“You think I’m cute?” I ask breathlessly. “And the only thing I recall being small was… not my hands.”
He laughs, and I’m so stunned by the break of character that I can’t help but let loose a small smile. “It would appear your attitude still needs much work.”
“I can’t entirely say yours is favorable either.”
“But you like it,” he’s quick to shoot back.
His hands are hot, feeling like brands against my skin.
“If that’s what you tell yourself to get to sleep, then I think you’re the only cute one here.”
His gaze is locked on my mouth. And before I know it, he moves in closer, and his lips daringly brush against mine.
I’m so surprised by the action that I suck in a breath, and it’s his air that I’m breathing. My tongue coaxes his, inviting more. His tongue slides against mine, and before I can think twice about it, I’m grabbing his shirt and pulling him into me so our chests are pressing together.
I don’t think either of us is thinking of what we’re doing. We’re just being. This could turn into a colossal disaster, ripping at one another just like last time. It brings back all the reasons I liked him. The insults, the push and pull, the arrogance of this fucking man fuels every inch of my inexcusable hunger for him. Even when I know who he is, it just makes me want it more.
His hand grips my jaw even tighter, and his mouth assaults mine possessively. No other man’s kiss has compared to his. No matter how I tried to find someone else who could replace those scorching memories, I never could. I may not have fully enjoyed our first time together that night, pushing through the pain of losing my virginity, but each time after that was a barbaric and carnal claiming I’d never known existed. But what I remember most are these fucking lips and hands, demanding and dominating every inch of me.