Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I answer the same damn way.
In no time, he seals his mouth to mine, curls one hand around my hip, and ropes the other through my hair. He gives a tug, and I yelp softly into his mouth, but he doesn’t break the kiss.
He amps it up. Hard. Fierce. Certain. His hand lets go of the hold on my hip, climbing higher to my waist.
I angle closer, letting him know with my body that I want his touch. Need it. He slides his hand under my shirt, splaying his fingers across my stomach, spreading them over my skin, then wrenching away a few seconds later.
“Fuck, you’re soft,” he says, kind of mesmerized. His eyes look hazy. Then he blinks. “I’d like to get you naked really fucking soon. Think that’ll work for you?”
I furrow my brow. “Was it not clear?”
“I just like to ask.”
He’s an unusual mix of gentleman and caveman. I want to feel him above me, under me, and over me.
God, that image sends a wicked thrill through me, a hot ache in my core.
But then I picture the suite, and the hot mess I left it in flashes before my eyes. The laptop, my Bees Do It Better T-shirt—all the reminders of the farm. Reminders I don’t need right now when I want to not think about every single thing I need to do in the next twenty-eight days.
“Can you give me ten minutes?” I ask.
“Yeah, I…” He stops, then a hint of shyness flickers in his eyes. “Need to get a condom anyway.” He scratches his jaw, then shrugs. “Sometimes at hotels, the fitness center has them in a vending machine, or the front desk does. If you ask, that is.”
My heart gets a little fluttery for a few seconds. I don’t know why I love that he’s not carrying one, but I do. “Like an ‘if you know, you know.’”
“Exactly.”
“Perfect. Meet me in Room 210 in ten minutes,” I say.
Banks cups my cheek, soft this time, gentle. He presses a tender kiss to my lips. “I’m counting down.”
Then, he gives me the kiss I was expecting at first. A slow, heady kiss. A kiss that makes my mind feel hazy and my body warm. I’m melting into it and into him. He’s the most alluring mix of rough and tender, and I’m dying to experience more of him.
Maybe more of my own untested wishes tonight.
He breaks the kiss, leaving me wanting him even more, then runs his knuckles along my jawline possessively. “Whatever you want tonight, it’s yours.”
I want to explore my desires. “I’ll tell you when I see you in ten minutes.”
“You better,” he says. That dark look has returned, and he maneuvers a hand down my back, smacking my ass lightly but sending a message. There’s more where that came from. “Nine minutes and forty-five seconds now. Better get moving, Ripley.”
I hustle out of there so fast. I can’t wait for my night to really begin.
4
MY LUCKY NIGHT
BANKS
My dick hasn’t even had a chance to deflate when my phone rings thirty seconds later.
Annoyed at the interruption, I reach for the device in my back pocket where I’ve been happily ignoring it since I met the most interesting woman I’ve encountered in ages. I don’t want to deal with a phone call right now while my mind is lasered in on Room 210 and all the ways I want to make Ripley come tonight.
But you never know who’s calling. Could be Mom, or my sister Emily, or my landlord telling me a pipe’s burst. I guess pipes bursting are on my mind. I adjust myself surreptitiously in the booth, even though no one else is in this back corner of the bar. The phone bleats again as I wrestle it from my pocket.
It’s…
It’s a 415 number.
My heart sprints.
It’s the number of the San Francisco referral agency I met with a couple hours ago right here in this hotel where they conducted interviews with a few key candidates about a highly specialized contract job for a hush-hush client, they said. I flew up from Los Angeles for the meeting. Signed an NDA in advance, even though they didn’t share details of the client. But that’s par for the course in my field, where discretion and subtlety are mission critical. When the meeting ended, the guy told me they’d get back to me soon about the opportunity.
I figured that meant when the fuck ever, so hurry up and wait.
But a call mere hours later has got to be good. I try to tamp my excitement, but already I’m feeling damn good. Meeting a sexy-as-sin woman I vibe with and scoring a plum gig for our new firm in one night?
I’m not a guy who believes in luck. But maybe I should. I answer it. “Banks here,” I say, cool and professional.