Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
“That was…amazing,” I say, still in awe.
“As long as they didn’t touch you.” I breathe deep, cementing his scent into my lungs. There’s a hint of his sweat there now, which is like the cherry on top of the sundae.
I know now that whatever Chris does for a living, it’s definitely not security consulting. The way he moved, the way he took those two apart with such ease—that’s something only a man who has done it countless times before can do.
He looks at me now, still scanning my body for damage, holding me close like my own personal protector.
The realization should change things. But I push it away for later. Right now, all I can focus on is Chris. “Take me to your place,” I tell him.
He drives fast. Controlled, precise. One hand on the wheel and one hand on my thigh like he’s still making sure I’m okay. His palm is warm and rests just above my knee, his fingers curling slightly against the inside of my leg. Heat gathers where his fingers touch me, radiating out, up, until my whole body is humming with anticipation.
I’m yearning for more, but he doesn’t move his hand. He just keeps it where it is, steady, like he’s anchoring himself to me.
Without even thinking, I press my thighs together. A reflex. A failed attempt to try and hold back whatever is building inside me.
Chris notices, as he notices everything, and the corner of his lips twitch. The hint of a smile.
We pull into the parking lot of a modern home in Pacific Beach. White, nondescript, but clearly expensive. He parks and kills the engine. Neither of us moves.
“Avery.”
He says my name like he’s been tasting it all evening, trying it on. My entire body reacts. My belly tightens, and a flush comes over my chest and throat. Even my nipples harden against my dress.
I somehow manage to turn and look at him. His face is so close. His eyes are dark and mesmerizing, and his breathing is slow and rhythmic.
So many feelings that are new to me. A warmth in my lips. A jitter in my heart. And my underwear feels suddenly damp. But why?
“You must be sure,” he says.
I swallow hard. “Of what?”
“Sure that you want to come inside. Because if you do, I won’t be able to stop myself from touching you—touching you more.” His look is intense. He’s not lying. “I’m a disciplined man, Avery. But if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”
My pulse goes haywire. Every nerve ending in my body lights up like fireworks as I look at this perfect man—a man who is careful, controlled, and dangerous. A man I barely know.
But I do know this.
I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life.
I nod, my voice barely a whisper. “Yes, I’m sure.”
The restraint behind his eyes breaks. I watch as it gives way, like the sky darkening after a flash of lightning. Then he’s out of the car and coming around to my side before I even have my seatbelt undone.
He opens the door, takes me by the hand, and pulls me out and into his arms in a single motion. For one brief, explosive second, I’m pressed against his strong chest with his arm locked around my lower back and his mouth a hair’s breadth from mine.
He’s going to kiss me now.
Finally, after hours of tension between us. After our meal, his thumb on my wrist, juxtaposing the violence he used to protect me. Finally, he’s going to do it.
But he doesn’t.
He pulls back, grips my hand, and leads me up the stairs to the front door with long, purposeful strides. My heart is about to burst as I follow, my breath caught in my chest, my shoes scraping as my legs start failing.
I’m wound so tight that if he touches me anywhere, I might just come apart.
He unlocks the door, and like a gentleman, steps aside to let me in.
The house is sparse, nearly empty. A couch and a lamp are the only furniture. No photos on the walls, no clutter on the counters. It’s like he doesn’t even live here—only sleeps.
I turn around and open my mouth to speak—make some kind of small talk—but he’s right there. His chest rises and falls. His hands are at his sides, fists clenched like he’s holding himself back by sheer force of will. His eyes are on me, pale blue but burning as if lit by something powerful within.
An even greater hunger swells between my thighs. More powerful than anything I’ve felt. Warm. Relentless. Demanding. I stare at his lips, hypnotized by thoughts of what they could do to me.
For the first time, I see him. The man behind the control, the discipline, the skepticism. The security consultant cover story. I see a man who behind all that is starving, and yet with all his strength and power is still hesitant.