Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Likely, I didn’t look great.
But Elliot drank me in like I was a Victoria’s Secret model.
He clutched the back of my neck, tugging me in for a quick, hard, close-mouthed kiss.
I sank into his embrace without thinking, all the reasons I had solidified into my mind for staying away from Elliot were gone in a puff of smoke. To be fair, they had been nothing but dust by the fourth martini.
After four martinis, I was nothing but a hedonistic beast, driven by selfish needs without thought to the consequences.
Hence why I was pressed against a hard body that smelled of the ocean.
And because I was four martinis deep and horny and I wanted to escape anything beyond sex, I tried to deepen the kiss.
Elliot didn’t let me.
He gripped my shoulders, pulling me back to rake his eyes over me.
“I haven’t been shot again.” I was being smarmy, not slurring my words because I wasn’t a lightweight. I could’ve put together a board proposal for a Fortune 500 right then if I’d needed to. I had in the past.
“You’re drunk,” Elliot deduced, as though I didn’t betray the outward signs beyond a disheveled appearance. I could’ve tasted like vodka too, I supposed. But it wasn’t uncommon for me to taste like vodka.
Okay, so there were a lot of signs pointing to the conclusion that I was drunk. It wouldn’t take more than a curious glance to pick up on that. And Elliot looked at me with a fuck of a lot more than a curious glance.
“Yeah,” I admitted, not seeing the point in lying. “Well, not technically. I don’t get drunk. I have an excellent constitution.” My point was weakened by the large hiccup I punctuated the sentence with.
I frowned at such a pedestrian gesture. It normally took at least four more martinis to get me to that level. I tried to remember the last time I ate. Even on my meager diet, I usually lined my stomach with some kind of protein before drinking more than two martinis.
Elliot didn’t argue with me, which was wise. Instead, he closed the door and led us into the suite.
Even though it was just me, I’d checked into the nicest room in the hotel. Because I was a snobby bitch, used to buying the best, thinking that all the opulence I surrounded myself with would make the ends justify the means.
Spoiler alert: Being alone in a penthouse was just as lonely as being in a room at a Motel 6, if not more.
All of the loneliness I’d felt while being in the empty suite while alone dissipated as Elliot glanced around it.
He didn’t seem overly impressed, though his gaze lingered on the view before he led me over to the hotel phone.
He hadn’t let go of me since I’d opened the door, as if he feared I was going to go somewhere. I wanted to tease him about it, but I felt as if I might very well float away into nothingness if he did let me go.
I didn’t even ask him who he was calling when he put the phone to his ear, I was too busy studying the contours of his profile. Everything about him was perfect. Even the rough stubble covering his jaw, the perfect shade, not too light, not too dark. No bald patches. If I squinted, I could catch a couple of grays, somewhat camouflaged by the dirty blond.
“I’m looking to order room service, please.” His low rumble punctured my thoughts, along with the accompanying good manners that didn’t surprise me. I hadn’t even realized that he wasn’t holding the room service menu.
“Yeah, one of everything, please,” he continued with that pleasant tenor, those manners.
Since when did I find manners sexy on a man?
“Yep, everything.” He nodded. “And some waters, and a Diet Coke, please.” I watched his long, sandy eyelashes during a pause. “Room 531, thanks.”
He hung up, and I stared at him.
“Everything on the menu?” I scoffed.
He nodded. “I wasn’t sure what you felt like, and I don’t have a crowbar handy to pry it out of you. I’m hungry too.”
I pursed my lips to swallow my smile. “Do you know how wasteful and not to mention expensive everything on the menu is?”
“I’m aware of how wasteful and expensive it is.” He gave me an even look before deliberately casting his gaze around the suite. “But I’ve got a hunch you can afford it.” His tone was airy, teasing.
“It doesn’t bother you that I make more money than you?” I was feeling brazen, my tongue loosened by the martinis. Not that I wouldn’t have been brave enough to ask the question sober, I might’ve warmed up to it a little more first, though. Avoided it for a little longer because I didn’t want to know the truth if it colored my perception of Elliot, if it led to the chance that he was indeed like all other men.