Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
"Pot, meet kettle," I mutter, somehow amused and frustrated at the same goddamn time. Has she never been told no before? Hell, probably not. I'm guessing men fall all over themselves to do her bidding. And fuck them for that, because I want to be the one doing it… but not if groups of readers are involved.
Last time I went to an event, it was a fucking nightmare. I will not be repeating that experience. That's a hard limit for me.
"You think I'm disagreeable?" She laughs softly, batting strands of blonde hair out of her face. "Please."
"I have a few other adjectives in mind to describe you."
"Like what?"
Beautiful. Edible. Fuckable.
"Stubborn, irritating, annoyingly persistent."
"You do know what war means, right?" She leans forward like she has a secret to tell me. "It means no retreat or mercy until one side or the other capitulates or surrenders. And I never surrender, River."
I eye her for a moment, not sure if that's a threat or a promise. The way my cock jerks in response, I think he takes it as a promise. "And are you aware of what arrested means?" I finally ask.
"Is that the thing where a big, strong man in uniform puts cuffs on you without a safeword and holds you captive until you promise to behave?" She wiggles her brows. "If so, I might be familiar with the concept."
Jesus Christ.
I choke on laughter. "That's one hell of a way to describe an arrest."
She smirks, shrugging. "Am I wrong, though?"
"You speaking from experience, princess?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" She steals another fry from my plate before leaning back to look around.
Yes, actually. I really fucking would—both whether she wants to be cuffed and captive and if she's ever been to jail. I might actually lose my goddamn mind fantasizing about her answer to the first. And will not be in the least surprised by her answer to the second. Something tells me that Jasmine Knudsen is trouble all the time. The woman could probably run hell and shame the devil.
Audrey notices her at the booth as she passes by with the mop and waves. "We're finishing up your order now, Jazz."
"Take your time." Jasmine grins at her. "I'm busy stalking River."
"Uh…" Audrey glances between her and me and then shakes her head like she wants nothing to do with whatever the fuck is going on at this booth.
I study Jasmine for a long moment, slipping my hand beneath the table to adjust my cock. It doesn't help, not really. There will be no getting him to settle down again until I take him in hand and deal with that situation. But I can't do that here and now, or I'll be the one being cuffed without a safeword and held captive by a big, strong man.
Frankly, it isn't nearly as fun as she made it sound.
"So…why do you hate readers so much?" she asks.
"What the fuck? Who said I hate readers?"
"You said meeting them was insanity."
"No, I said not meeting them made me sane," I correct. "That doesn't mean I hate readers. It doesn't even mean there's a damn thing wrong with meeting readers. I happen to have an infinite amount of respect for most readers. But I value boundaries more than I value being a piece of meat at the market."
She cocks her head to the side, studying me. "A piece of meat at the market, huh? Could you possibly be any more arrogant or self-important?" she asks, rolling her eyes. "It's honestly gross, River."
I close my laptop before sliding it off the table into my bag. And then I pull out my wallet and toss a few bills onto the scarred tabletop before sliding out of the booth. "You think that's what this is?" I finally say, glancing down at her. "Maybe you should do a little research, princess, and then get back to me." I pause. "Actually, don't get back to me. My answer isn't going to change."
"Then I'm not going away," she calls softly.
I'm not sure why I stop. I know damn well that I shouldn't… but I do.
"You want me to attend your book club?"
"That's what I've been saying."
"Fine. Then let's make a deal."
"What kind of deal?"
"Have dinner with me, and I'll consider it."
She blinks those long, sooty lashes at me, like a date is the last thing she expected me to offer. Frankly, it's the last thing I expected to offer today, too. It's been years since I last took anyone out. But I know what I want. It's not speaking at whatever book club she runs. It's her. If getting close to her means walking into my own personal hell again, fine. I'll play, but we're playing by my rules.
"What?" she finally says.
"Go out with me, and I'll do Book Club for you."
"Hell no," she blurts, a little breathless and wide-eyed, like the thought alone is the worst possible thing she can think of.