Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“It was. Probably the biggest mistake I’ve ever made,” she mutters.
I drag a hand through my hair and push off the mattress, allowing the covers to fall away as I stand. The air between us thickens again, heavy with the intimacy we just shared and everything she wants so desperately to deny.
“And yet…” My jeans lie in a heap near the dresser. I step into them leisurely, pulling them up while her eyes betray her with one quick glance. The zipper slides, the grind of metal breaking the quiet. “You still ended up riding my dick.” I pause, pretending to think. “What was that—four times?” I shrug into my shirt.
Her jaw drops as color floods her cheeks. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Pretty sure you said something similar last night.”
She snatches a shirt from the floor, yanks it over her head, and all but shoves me toward the door. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
I look down at her and take in the wild hair, the kiss-bruised lips, the faint marks on her throat. She’s furious and flustered, and painfully beautiful.
“Sweetheart,” I say, leaning in close enough to pull a small hitch from her, “you haven’t even seen hard yet.”
Her eyes flash with warning. “Out.”
With a smirk, I grab my jacket from the chair, and head for the door. “Whatever you say.”
Even though the response comes easily, my chest feels tighter than it should as I step into the hall. She slams the door behind me hard enough to rattle the frame.
I stand there for a beat. The hallway smells faintly of coffee and cleaning polish. It’s too bright after the night we just shared. The contrast almost makes me laugh.
The delicate scent of her perfume clings to my skin like a secret I don’t know how to keep. I slip my jacket on, drag a hand through my hair, then pull out my phone. The grin creeps back before I can stop it.
Instead of texting something real, something that matches the ache that has settled deep, I do what I always do, and turn my feelings into a joke.
Me: FYI—I just slept with the future Mrs. Van Doren.
I stare at the message to my brother for a moment before hitting send.
Rina thinks this was a mistake.
And maybe she’s right.
It probably was.
But I can’t remember the last time a mistake felt this right.
Or this real.
She thinks she can walk away.
But me?
I’m already in too deep.
Rina Reynolds has no idea what she just got herself into.
Then again, maybe I don’t either.
3
Rina
Present day…
* * *
Evelyn Kingston’s office smells faintly of lavender polish and old money. Not the flashy kind that shouts for attention, but the quiet sort that’s defined Chicago for generations. She’s perched behind her glass desk like a queen on her throne, pearl earrings gleaming as she scans the event proposal I emailed her this morning.
I’ve claimed a chair on the opposite side of her desk, iPad in hand, the gala schedule open between us.
“Beau Masterson confirmed catering,” Evelyn says, tapping a manicured nail against one of the pages. “I’d like to spotlight that partnership in the press release. He’s a recognizable name.”
“I can work that into the first paragraph,” I reply, making a quick note. “And Callie’s bakery is handling desserts.”
Evelyn’s mouth curves. “Perfect. Lakeshore Sweets has a loyal local following. I want the event to feel community driven. Less corporate.”
I grin. “Then I’ll make sure the coverage reflects that. Maybe a behind-the-scenes feature with Callie and Sloane prepping the desserts?”
Her eyes brighten with approval. “Exactly. The players will draw attention, but people remember the details. You have a knack for that.”
After four years in the Railers’ PR department, I’ve learned that details are everything. Especially when cleaning up after the guys. I can spin a scandal before my first cup of coffee.
Which is exactly why my pulse shouldn’t spike when my iPad vibrates, and a text banner flashes across the top of the screen.
Big D: Been thinking about you.
Heat crawls up my neck. I swipe the message away before Evelyn can notice, refocusing on the agenda even as my heartbeat stutters.
“Beau’s team will need access to the loading dock by four,” she continues.
Buzz.
Big D: I can’t wait to get my hands on you again.
My grip tightens on the stylus until it’s on the verge of snapping in half.
Ignore it.
Focus.
You’re a professional, Rina.
Buzz.
Big D: God, I’m starving. I haven’t stopped thinking about the taste of you on my tongue.
Heat curls in my belly, and I tug at my collar, popping the first button, as if that’ll do a damn bit of good to cool me down.
“Rina?” Evelyn’s crisp tone cuts through my haze. She studies me carefully as her brow furrows. “Are you all right? You look flushed.”
“Uh-huh. Totally fine.” The reply comes out a note too high.
Her eyes narrow. “Do you need some water?”