Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“Because I was hoping to see you.” It comes out without thought, and I close my eyes on a swallow, immediately regretting it.
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” He releases me, prompting me to open my eyes. “So why try and leave?”
“Because you ask too many questions.”
“You don’t want me to know you.”
“You don’t want to know me.”
“Wrong.”
“Why?”
“That I haven’t figured out yet.” Facing the bar, he taps the base of the glass. “So let’s set some boundaries.”
“Okay.”
“No personal questions.”
My lips purse. If he can’t ask me, I can’t ask him. “I’ve just sat through a quickfire round with you,” I point out.
“You really didn’t reveal much, Camryn. You’re thirty-seven, a CFO, you apparently don’t have any favourites, you’re divorced but not, and deeply unhappy.”
I recoil. Deeply unhappy. “It’s more than I know about you,” I say quietly, not refuting his analysis.
“Maybe that’s best for both of us.”
“Maybe,” I agree. But I don’t agree. Surprisingly, I want to know every tiny detail there is to know about Dec. And now I can’t ask.
“Drink,” he whispers, pushing my glass toward me. I blindly reach for it, lost in his silver gaze as he watches me take a sip. “Let me tell you what I know about you.”
“You just did.”
“Things you haven’t told me.” He leans in closer, and I get a stronger hit of his heady scent. “Your dark hair reflects golden strands when the light catches it,” he says quietly, his eyes flicking to my hair. “You have a layer here that’s a fraction too short to stay comfortably behind your ear when you tuck it there, which is usually when you’re uncomfortable.”
I feel my hand twitch to do exactly that—pointlessly tuck that shorter layer behind my ear. Dec’s lips twitch, and he reaches for it. “Let me do that for you,” he says, pushing it back. My heart booms as I study his face, unable to take my eyes off him. “You don’t wear lipstick, but you don’t need to.” The pad of his index finger meets my cupid’s bow. “Because your lips are naturally rosy.” The feeling of his finger dragging across my top lip to the corner heats me between my legs. “This mole,” he murmurs, moving his light touch to the top of my cheek, “I love it.”
“I hate it.”
“It’s beautiful.” His bottom lip disappears between his teeth. “And your eyes,” he whispers, edging closer to the point I’m sure he’s moving in for a kiss. “They speak to me more than you probably want them to.”
A soft hitch of breath escapes as I stare at him, my mind telling me to retreat, but my heart begging me to explore this. “And what do they say?” What am I doing?
His palm opens and slides onto my cheek. “They’re telling me you’re wildly attracted to me,” he breathes.
“That’s some intuition you have, Dec.”
“It’s not intuition.” He releases my cheek and leans back. “It’s fact. And the feeling is shared.”
“So this is just physical?”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Camryn. You’ve revealed too much, so not only do I have your beauty to contend with, I also have my intrigue.”
“I’ve revealed too much?”
“You want to get to know me.” His head tilts, waiting for me to correct him. He knows I won’t. “You’re surprised by that. Am I close?”
It’s not just physical.
He’s intrigued.
Fuck.
“Maybe,” I murmur. And he nods.
I should have gotten up and left the bar. I didn’t. At least, not on my own.
The walk home is quiet and comfortable. Our shoulders brush a few times, and neither of us apologise for it. In fact, we seem to get closer and closer with every step. When we reach my apartment building, I slow to a stop and breathe in deep, facing him. He has some fluff from his scarf caught in his rough stubble. “What?” he asks, seeing me staring at the delicate piece of fuzz on the corner of his lip.
“You have something here.” I point to my mouth.
“Then get it.”
I shoot my eyes to his shimmering gaze, seeing his order there too, and slowly reach for the fluff, pulling it free. “There.”
“You have something too.”
I brush at my mouth.
“Not there.”
“Where?”
“Just”—he leans forward, his face a fraction from mine, and my senses are immediately overwhelmed by his closeness, my nose invaded by his rich, clean cologne—“here.” He breathes across my cheek, only a second before he presses his lips into my skin. I close my eyes, paralysed by the warmth that sails through my cold body from a simple kiss—just a press of his lips on my cheek.
Then he pulls away, and I mourn the loss.
Dec steps back, sucking his lip between his teeth, as if tasting me. “Goodnight, Camryn.”
“Goodnight, Dec.”
He turns away, strolling off down the road, and this time he doesn’t stop at the corner.
But somehow I know it’s okay.