Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
He eyes me skeptically, but doesn’t press. When the server comes over, he orders bourbon for himself and the house sangria for me.
I didn’t expect him to order for me, but I didn’t hate it.
His daring hand inches higher, nearing my panties. I’m not sure if it’s inadvertent or deliberate. By the time the server brings our drinks, my whole body feels warm, and I’m completely parched. I’m surprised to see a whole pitcher of sangria when he only ordered it for me.
“Can I get a glass of water as well?” I ask.
She nods and says she’ll be right back.
“Thirsty?” Hayden asks, his tone lightly amused.
“I like to have two drinks. It’s a weird quirk of mine. I always like to have water as an alternative, even if I probably won’t drink it.”
He watches my face as if he finds that tidbit fascinating. “Afraid you won’t like what you initially picked out?” He grabs his bourbon and takes a slow sip. “Are you indecisive, Miss Cane?”
I can’t even decide whether to say yes or no, so I guess I am. It’s less about fear of making a claim one way or the other. I can’t stop thinking about his hand between my thighs. It’s so… so inappropriate.
His pinkie inches higher, and my breath hitches. I grab my glass and gulp down more of it than I should have.
“Tell me about your last date,” he says.
I place the glass down, looking at it instead of him. “It wasn’t very good.”
“No?”
I shake my head.
“Why not?”
“We didn’t have any chemistry or anything to talk about. He was a doctor who worked all the time. I was a single mom dance instructor. I tried to talk to him about things, but it didn’t seem like he had any real interest in my opinions or hobbies. I thought the date was horrible, but when we went to leave, he still tried to make out with me and invite me back to his place. I think he just wanted…”
“To fuck you.”
His crude words make my eyes widen. Averting my gaze from his, I murmur, “Yes.”
“Is that so awful? Don’t you ever go out just for a brief physical connection?”
I shake my head. “Not really my thing. Generally speaking, I don’t have sexual feelings toward someone until I’ve established an emotional connection. I can’t want a man I don’t already like.”
Or I had thought that until tonight.
I’m not sure I like him—not sure I don’t, either—but I definitely know he isn’t someone I should be sexually attracted to. I could never act on a sexual attraction to Landon Atwater’s father.
Needing to steer my thoughts away from sexy things and back into more appropriate waters, I clear my throat and ask, “Did you have a chance to speak with Landon about how he’s been treating Parker?”
“Not yet. I will. You’re trying to change the subject.”
My eyes widen. “What? No, I…”
His hand slides as high as it can without pushing his palm flush against me, his fingertips brushing against my pussy through the material of my panties.
“Hayden.” My spine stiffens. I know it has to be deliberate, and he’s making me so flushed. It’s indecent to touch someone this way in public. Finally, I reach down and grab his hand, tugging it out from under my skirt. “I believe your hand is lost.”
He smirks. “I believe it knows right where it wants to go.”
“I’m not going to sleep with you.”
“Good news. I don’t fuck with my hand. I can think of some other things I could do with it, though.”
So can I, and my cheeks heat even more. “You’re a very bold man.”
“And you’re a woman who keeps her passion locked up in a prison cell. Perhaps you need a man like me to help you break it out.”
I fight the urge to tug my skirt down so it’s not riding up so high, but I don’t want to draw more attention to the area. “Just because I don’t want you groping me while we’re in a public place does not mean I keep my passions locked up. And I certainly don’t need a man like you. I’ve done just fine by myself all these years.”
“I wasn’t suggesting we get married,” he says, his hand sliding back to my thigh but not being so daring now. He grabs his bourbon and takes a sip. “I would like to peel back those defenses and pound past your barriers, though. I want to see what you look like in a moment of unrestrained passion, to taste your whimpers on my lips. I think you should reconsider your position.”
Mercifully, the server brings over my water. I try to take advantage of her presence at the table to scoot away from him, but when I try, he locks his hand around my thigh again.