Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I texted Carvel. Aristocrats.
Yep.
The Vatican must have had some French pieces in the museum, and the Aristocrats were pissed about it. Out of my jurisdiction, so not my problem.
Thank god for that. Fucking psychopaths.
I set my phone down and took a drink before I looked across the bar again. It’d been a few days since I’d seen Aliénor. We hadn’t spoken. I assumed that was done, but if it was done, why did I still think about her? Why was I frustrated beyond sanity but equally obsessed?
What was it about this goddamn woman?
A text popped up on my phone.
It wasn’t Carvel or one of the other guys.
It was her.
Want to come over for dinner?
I stared at the message. Read it not once, but twice. Didn’t touch the phone. Just sat there and stared at the screen until it turned black again. All I had to do was ignore her and ghost her.
But I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t do it, and it pissed me the fuck off.
Her message popped up again. I’m not the best cook, but I can whip up a couple decent things.
A woman had never cooked me dinner before. Not even my own mother.
Ignore her. Just ignore her.
I drank from my glass, and when it was empty, I ordered another. I pushed her from my mind and tried to think of all the shit I had to do tonight.
But my mind always came back to her.
Why the fuck was this happening to me?
I snatched the phone and groaned as I smashed my thumbs against the screen. When?
Tonight. Or any night that you’re free.
The ball was in my court. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. I had a long night ahead of me, but I canceled it for her. Like some kind of pussy-whipped little bitch.
She sent a red-heart emoji.
Instead of knocking on her door, I walked inside. She expected me, so I didn’t want to bother with the dance. When I shut the door, it clicked in place, and that was when she knew I was there.
She stood over a hot pot on the stove, wearing a bright-red apron. She was a little spooked, like she hadn’t expected me to walk in like that, but she quickly shook it off. She stepped over to the counter to remove her apron, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and black jeans, and walked up to me.
I had been mad when I walked in the door, but I wasn’t angry when I looked at her.
Eyes green like the northern lights. Soft and delicate like a flower that had just bloomed in spring. Packed with vulnerability and emotion that practically leaped from her eyes. Her gaze locked on mine, and there was a pause.
A pause that I physically felt.
Then she rose onto her tiptoes and came into me, hungry lips landing on mine, her fingers digging into the back of my hair, her arm reaching to hook around my neck as far as it would extend with our height difference. She kissed me like she’d missed me, like she’d been thinking of me every moment we’d been apart, thinking of me as hard as I tried not to think of her.
And I was fucking lost.
My hand moved to her ass in her jeans, and I squeezed it as I pulled her into me, my arm curled around the small of her back, my other hand digging deep into her hair like I’d find gold in the strands. Kissing was the thing I was the least interested in, but whenever my lips touched hers, I felt the fire. I felt a desperation that slowly burned hotter and hotter, a searing heat that burst between our mouths, an ache in my chest that only grew worse the longer I kissed her.
She was the gasoline poured over my flames—and our chemistry was fucking combustive.
Jesus Christ.
I was the one who pulled away first. Dumped the water on the flames and watched the smoke. Tried to contain a forest fire that had scorched most of the earth. I could still feel the heat on my mouth like she was ablaze.
She remained on her tiptoes, her hand on my cheek, her face close to mine, stars in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
My eyes were locked on hers, seeing a woman who made me sane and fucking crazy at the same time. The sincerity of her words and her expression made me feel a lot of shit. I let her go and moved around her. “What’s for dinner?” I’d already had dinner at home a couple hours ago, but I could eat again. I could always fucking eat.
“Caesar chicken with penne pasta.”
“Never had it.”
“I think it’s pretty good.” She turned back to the stove and turned off the burner so the pot with pasta would cool off. “Take a seat. Do you drink wine?”