Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
She whimpered in response and he took the champagne flute from her loosening grip and placed both of their glasses on the windowsill behind her.
Her hands fisted the front of his shirt as he cupped her face, lifted it toward his and lowered his head to suckle that juicy top lip into his mouth.
He groaned at the taste of her and lifted his head almost immediately, not sure he’d be able to stop if he deepened the kiss the way he wanted. He needed to get her out of here right now.
“What the hell are you? Some kind of witch? You’re driving me insane,” he told her and her eyes widened. She looked as shell-shocked as he felt.
“Really?” she asked, her voice a little skeptical and lot confused.
“See for yourself,” he invited hoarsely and took one of her hands and guided it down to his straining crotch.
At the first tentative touch he embarrassed himself by involuntarily thrusting against her. She gasped and her head bent as she stared down to where she was cupping him. Her hand closed experimentally around his girth and he swore and stepped away from her. Folding that same searching hand into one of his, he tugged her out of their private little nook.
The exit was close and he had her out of the ballroom and in the library in under a minute.
Cade had never been ruled by his cock, but right now it was most definitely calling the shots. As he stared at the slender, drab little moth who had so effectively lured him toward her pale light, he knew two things with absolute certainty…
This was not a good idea.
But Cade did not give a fuck.
Chapter
One
TWO MONTHS LATER
Fern Lambert pensively smoothed her damp palms down her modest ankle length gray skirt and then tugged at the buttoned-up collar of her plain, cream blouse. This outfit would not have been her first choice for what was to come. Nothing in her closet would ever have been her first choice… but she’d long ago learned to pick her battles. And fighting for her right to choose her own clothing was a battle she’d lost long ago.
But tonight was special, tonight she’d see him again.
Cade Hawthorne.
Fern hadn’t seen him since that night—at the party—when she’d lost herself in his arms. Yet she’d thought of him every day since. She was realistic enough to know that he probably wouldn’t have been thinking of her in the same way. She’d be surprised if he even recognized her tonight. As Granger so often liked to remind her, Fern wasn’t particularly memorable.
Cade’s obvious and unexpected desire for her had shocked her. Fern wasn’t used to men wanting her in that way, and he’d certainly seemed to crave her. The depth of his need had been flattering. While her own reciprocal lust had been revelatory.
She was nervous about seeing him again, afraid of his reaction to what she had to say. Not sure he’d care. But she needed him to care. Needed him to help her. Fern wasn’t sure what she’d do if he didn’t help her. The prospect of his rejection terrified her and created a dull spiral of nausea-inducing panic in her stomach.
She clamped a hand over her mouth, while pressing the other against her abdomen. She willed the nausea away, trying to maintain her composure.
“Keep it together, Fern,” she admonished herself, her voice low and stern. “Just a little while longer.”
The trickiest part would be to get him alone. Her stepsisters would be vying for his attention, they’d been swooning over the prospect of meeting him. They’d both lamented—loudly and at length—over the fact that he’d disappeared before they’d had the opportunity to talk to him the night of the gala.
Neither woman had noticed that Fern had disappeared at the same time, of course. She’d always been beneath their notice.
Fern took in a deep steadying breath and exhaled slowly. Feeling only marginally less frightened, she straightened her shoulders and stepped out of her room.
“This is a waste of fucking time,” James Angus Hawthorne groused in his customarily curt manner. His thick, salt-and-pepper brows furrowed as he glared out of the car window while they wound their way up a steep hill toward the massive glass and mortar structure at the top, which was in the middle of the rolling winelands of Cape Town. The flashy glass house felt out of place among the tranquil, verdant green of the countryside and screamed new wealth.
Cade agreed that this was a waste of time, but Granger Abernathy was a slippery fucker and he’d been obfuscating over the terms and conditions of the sale of his late wife’s hempcrete empire. Maeve Lambert-Abernathy’s company was the leading supplier of sustainable building materials in the world and James Hawthorne—CEO of Hawthorne Construction & Engineering (HC&E), one of the biggest construction companies on the planet—was keen to acquire it.