Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I slide my hand around her nape, keeping her in place. Silky strands of hair tickle my fingers. “We don’t have time for games now, but I’ll be happy to play later.” Though I’ll be the one helping her get this dress off.
Soulful jade eyes peer into mine. A heavy, worried look clung to them yesterday. Now … I’m not sure what I’m seeing there.
“Better day today?” I whisper.
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know.” Her gaze drops downward, to my mouth.
I can’t hold back any longer. I lean in and kiss her, first tentatively, my lips grazing hers, the tip of my tongue tracing the seam of her mouth, tasting a hint of cherry from her lip gloss. But the second she responds, I deepen it, sliding my tongue against hers in a slow-moving, intimate dance. Screw Henry’s dinner party and my obligations; I could stand here all night, doing this.
A dull thud sounds, breaking us apart.
Her throat bobs with a hard swallow. “That was my purse.”
“I’ll get it.” I stoop down to collect the woven box before she can flinch a muscle, stalling on a sublime view of the sexy slit in her dress. It’s high—higher than I realized, reaching almost to her hip. It would take no effort to lean in and bury my face between her thighs right here.
Fuck me. I’ve changed, but not that much. This is going to be too tempting to ignore.
Her breathing is a touch ragged when I get to my feet and slide the purse strap over her shoulder.
“I really like this dress.”
“Good.” She clears her throat. “It’s staying on me tonight.”
“As it should.” I can easily work my way under it.
Her eyes narrow a touch, like she doesn’t believe me. “Right. Well … we better go. Ralph’s almost out of carrots.”
“I have more if needed.” I slip my arm around her back as we walk to the car.
This feels right.
This feels good.
Henry Wolf is not fucking this up for me.
8. Sloane
Ronan pulls his sleek car into a spot in the shade outside the hotel. “You good?”
“Debatable.” I’m about to lose the battle I’ve been fighting with my nerves all afternoon since I retrieved this dress from its garment bag. “How is this going to play out? What name are we going with? Ann or Sarah, or …”
He cuts the engine. “You’re into role-playing? Is that your bag?”
“No, but it’s probably better if you don’t introduce me as, you know, the ‘crazy rooster commune lady.’” I air quote that ridiculous nickname. “Sloane is unique, but there are a million Sarahs. Or Avas. I’ve always loved that name. Or …”
He slides out of the driver’s seat without answering.
I’m careful with the hem of my dress as I climb out of my side, ever aware of the revealing slit that Ronan’s focus snagged on earlier. I could feel his hot breath on my skin as he was crouching to collect my purse. It was nearly my undoing, and less than minute after I declared a no-sex night.
I am doomed with this man—absolutely zero control—a reality I am aware of but continue to deny like a fool.
A row of luxury cars lines up next to us. A Porsche 911, a Viper, another Porsche, a Jag. “Seriously, what kind of dinner is this?” I ask.
Ronan rounds his bumper. “Mostly friends. It’s supposed to be casual. Whatever that means with these people.”
“These people?” I guess they’re not Ronan’s people. Where did he come from, besides Indianapolis?
“Yeah, rich-from-birth elite, trust fund brats. Except for Abbi. And as far as introducing you as anyone other than who you are, there’s no point. Henry will recognize you.”
I frown. “How? We’ve never met.”
He shakes his head, his laugh derisive. “Never assume he doesn’t know everything about everyone in the room.”
“That’s creepy.”
“It sounded worse than it is. I just mean he has an investigator on retainer.”
“An investigator? Henry Wolf had me investigated?” I don’t know why that’s shocking.
Ronan exhales heavily. “This is not going well.”
“No, it’s really not.”
“Listen.” He steps forward and settles his hands on my biceps, his thumbs gently stroking my skin. It’s a gesture that’s likely meant to soothe but instead stirs my pulse. “He had his people do some digging, given your, how should I call it—” His plump lips twist with a hint of amusement. “—passionate opposition to the hotel. He knows what you look like, which is why he didn’t want me anywhere near you.” His eyes scan my face. “He knew I wouldn’t be able to resist you.”
“What does it matter, though, if we’re together? The hotel is built. The damage is done.” Why did it matter in the first place?
“It doesn’t. If he doesn’t like it, fuck him. Anyway, I told Abbi about us, and she really wants to meet you.”
Hearing Ronan say the word us makes a flutter stir in my chest and pushes aside any little red flags that I sense waving in my subconscious.