Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
And if he can’t, a few Viagras will do the trick.
I take a few tentative steps closer, and that’s when I hear it.
A muffled moan—a female voice—underneath the old man.
But it’s not a moan of pleasure. It’s one of panic, of terror even.
Fuck.
Now I know what’s going on. The old man is unconscious—or worse. Maybe a heart attack, or a stroke. Something brought on by a strenuous activity.
And Bianca is trapped under him.
I rush to the side of the bed. Sure enough, Bianca is squeezed underneath his weight. Her eyes are wide, and when she sees me, her stifled sounds get louder.
“It’s okay, Bianca. I’m going to help you.”
I wrap my arms around the old man’s midsection and haul him off the bed. Bianca gasps in a breath of air. I lay the old man on the ground before I return to Bianca.
And… Oh, my God.
She’s completely naked.
And her body takes my breath away.
Perfect, round breasts with pink nipples. Skin the color of cream and gentle curves in all the right places. And I can’t help looking down at the treasure between her legs. She’s shaved completely bare, and her pussy…
Damn.
She and I make eye contact. She quickly grabs a blanket from the foot of the bed and wraps it around herself. Her porcelain cheeks turn pink.
“I’m sorry,” I eke out.
She takes a few deep breaths. “Sorry for what? You saved me.”
“What happened?”
She looks down. “I mean… Mr. Calloway. He purchased my…services.” She buries her head in her hands. “You must think I’m disgusting.”
Rage claws at the back of my neck. But not just rage.
Jealousy. The fucking green-eyed monster. Always green. The color I hate.
I breathe in. Out. She doesn’t need my anger.
“What happened after he brought you back here?” I finally ask.
“I… He told me to take my clothes off. And then he did, and he was getting on top of me when he…collapsed. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell onto me, pinning me down. I could barely breathe. I thought… My God, I thought I might suffocate and die.”
I can’t help it. I trail a finger over her cheek. “Not as long as I’m around, Bianca.”
She looks up at me, her eyes wide and her lips plump…
Shit. The old man.
I tear myself away from the bed and go back to him. I check for a pulse on his wrist, his neck. Nothing. I lower my ear over his nose and mouth. No breath.
He’s not unconscious. He’s dead.
“He’s gone.”
She covers her hand with her mouth.
I open my own mouth to tell her to get dressed while I go fetch Chet to call 911. But nothing comes out.
Because for the first time I notice her eyes.
They’re blue. But a dark blue, like the ocean in a storm.
They’re eyes I can get lost in. That can suck me into a whirlpool and land me at the bottom of the sea.
And I can’t help it.
I grab her off the bed and crush my lips to hers.
10
BIANCA
He’s kissing me.
He’s kissing me.
And I’m… I’m letting him.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed by a man who’s not paying to kiss me. I tried dating when I first came to Chicago, but I couldn’t get into the scene. I figured it would be the same as New York City, but it’s an entirely different culture. It doesn’t help that people essentially go into hibernation every winter here.
But wait…
I break away from him, our lips smacking as they part.
“Mr. Calloway,” I say on a breath.
He grins. “It’s O’Rourke.”
I shake my head. “No. The man who was with me. We have to…”
He shrugs. “He’s not going anywhere.”
I should smack him for speaking so callously about the dead. He’s a doctor. A healer. This should be killing him.
Instead I just gaze into his dark eyes, my mouth dropped open like a codfish.
And I don’t give a flying fuck about Cale Calloway.
I bring my lips back to his.
The kiss is three times as passionate as the first, our lips grinding against each other with a primal urgency, our tongues clashing.
I run my hand through his hair.
The bedsheet I was holding around myself falls, exposing my breasts.
Quick as a flash, he cups one in his strong, steady hand, brushing his thumb over my nipple. A volt of electricity races through me. I break the kiss long enough to suck in a breath.
And I look at him. Really look at him, my hand wandering to his shirt, fumbling with his bowtie. I undo a few buttons, caress his hard, muscled pecs.
My God, this man must live at the gym.
Our lips meld together again. I get lost in the kiss, so lost—
Until he breaks from it, slips off his tux jacket, and rips open the rest of his dress shirt, flinging loose buttons across the floor.
His chest is tanned, and even more muscular than I felt through his shirt, and his nipples are two gorgeous copper coins.