Series: Penny Dee
Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Among other things,” he says, his voice dripping with tension.
“Like?”
“Would it interest you to know that I have every intention of sharing every single one of them with you? But that’s dessert.” He leans back, and I can’t help it. I laugh. Wow, he really is trying the wine and dine.
“You really are a charming son of a bitch, aren’t you? Do you really think you are so charming that you could seduce me here in a room full of people? I thought you worked best in the dark.”
He leans forward until I can smell his cologne, and dear God, this man should come with a warning label. His gaze drops to my lips, then lifts back to my eyes. “With a body like mine, I don’t mind it being on display. Make no mistake, I could make you come right here and now.” His voice is barely more than a rumble. “But you will do it for me. Touch yourself.”
My breath catches, and my pulse hammers in my throat. I search the dimly lit room. It’s atmospheric, but people can still see. Yet when I look at him, I see the challenge in his gaze. One that I’ve always struggled to back down from, which has become damning.
I sigh, acting uninterested, and flick through my phone. I can feel his gaze on me, curious as I hit send. This is what I enjoy most about Silas: the push and pull for power and control. The game of dominance and the magnetic inability to keep our hands off one another.
His phone lights up on the table, and before he can look at it properly, I lean forward with a wicked smile, and his eyes darken. “How about instead of putting on a show, you pay like a good boy and beg to take me home.”
His gaze flickers to his phone, and I nod toward it, encouraging him to look. When he does, the subtle pounding of my heart begins to silently beg for his attention. It’s a photo of my tits I took earlier, with him in mind.
“I touched myself shortly after taking that photo, thinking of you,” I purr, and his gaze slices toward me, almost black, as he lifts his hand, silently summoning the check.
“I’m going to ruin you tonight, Doc,” he growls with that carnal expression in his gaze that brings my body to life.
“You can try,” I say, biting my bottom lip and grabbing my purse. “I need to freshen up.” I stand and cross the room, purposely swaying my hips, feeling his gaze glued to my ass in the tight black dress I’m wearing. But it’s not just his eyes I feel as I make my way toward the bathroom. Onlookers watch as well, most likely curious about the woman that someone with such a deadly reputation would wine and dine. I only came here for the food. Oh, and to fuck. At least that’s what I continue telling myself.
But it fills me with female pride and power, knowing how desperately he wants me. How much I affect him.
The ladies’ room is just as impressive as the rest of the restaurant, with its marble floors and gold fixtures.
I reapply my lipstick as a woman comes out of one of the stalls. She washes her hands and pulls out her lipstick. She’s blonde and beautiful, and wearing a tight red dress on her slender frame with a tall pair of Louboutin heels.
Our eyes meet in the mirror, and recognition flickers in her expression, and my stomach drops.
“Oh my God,” she says, turning to face me. A warm smile spreads across her face. “I know you.”
My heart kicks. “I don’t think so.” I quickly put my lipstick away.
“No, I do. I’m sure of it.” She studies me with bright eyes. “Where do I know you from?”
Dread fills my veins.
“You don’t,” I say. “You must have me confused with someone else.”
I move toward the door, but she steps into my path. She’s not being aggressive. Just confident she’s right. She’s still smiling and completely unaware that she’s just ignited a bomb inside me.
“It’s going to drive me crazy,” she says, tapping a long nail against her chin. “Oh, I know. It was back in California.”
The word rips through me like a bullet to my chest, and everything inside me goes cold.
California.
My pulse slams so hard it makes me dizzy. Heat flashes beneath my skin before draining away just as quickly, leaving my fingers numb around my clutch. My mouth goes dry. Every instinct inside me starts screaming even as I try to keep my voice controlled.
“You’re wrong,” I insist.
“No, I’m absolutely certain of it. It was a gala, and you were there with your husband.”
“I’ve never been to California.”
The lie is easy because I’ve told it more times than I can count.