Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
She steals a bite of my steak, and I roll my eyes but let her. Under the table, her foot brushes my calf.
"Playing footsie? Bold for fake."
"Who says fake?" she whispers.
We talk more—her favorite shoots (Paris rooftops), my least favorite op (desert heat, no details). Laughter slips in, and I realize she's not just a diva. She's sharp and resilient.
I pay the bill and we exit arm-in-arm. The paps swarm again, but I shield her, hand on her back, guiding her to the SUV. "Indigo! Kiss for the cameras?"
I make a snap second decision and lean in, pulling her into my arms. I kiss her. The moment our lips touch a fire ignites.
I keep kissing her, my body coming to life in an instant. Fuck me. She tastes so good, and I can hear the snap, snap, snap of all the cameras going crazy.
She breaks the kiss first and I immediately miss her touch. “Good enough show?” she whispers for only me to hear.
“It was sufficient.”
She glares at me like I’ve just said the wrong thing. On the ride back to the hotel she doesn’t speak, and I can tell she’s upset. Does she think I meant her kiss was sufficient? Because it was anything but that.
At the hotel the paparazzi crowds her a bit too close. “Handle this,” she snaps at me, and we’re back to being enemies in an instant.
I watch Indigo saunter into the hotel suite like she owns the damn world, her hips swaying in that tight little red dress that clings to every curve like it's painted on. She's been giving me shit since we left the restaurant—snapping orders, rolling her eyes at my security protocols, calling me a "muscle-bound Neanderthal" under her breath. Fine. I've been her bodyguard for a few days now, and every second has been a battle of wills. But tonight? Tonight, something snapped.
That kiss. Her breath against my skin.
She’s pissed about the paparazzi. “You’re useless, Mack,” she hisses, tossing her purse onto the couch and she kicks off her heels. Her long legs stretch out as she flops down, crossing them in a way that hikes her dress up her thighs. God, those thighs. I've been staring at them too long, imagining them wrapped around me, but I shove it down. Or try to.
"Watch your mouth, princess," I growl, locking the door behind us. The room's dim, just the city lights filtering through the curtains. She's a supermodel, all flawless skin and sharp cheekbones, but right now, her eyes are fire, locked on mine with that haughty glare that makes my blood boil—and my cock twitch.
She stands up, getting right in my face, her perfume hitting me like a drug. "Or what? You'll manhandle me? Try it, big guy. I dare you."
That's it. The dam breaks. I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head against the wall in one swift move. She gasps, but doesn't pull away—her chest heaves, those perfect tits straining against the fabric. "You think I won't?" I murmur, my voice low and rough. "You've been teasing me for days, strutting around in those skimpy outfits, bending over just enough to give me a view. You want this, don't you? Want me to fuck the attitude right out of you."
Her eyes widen, but there's heat there, not fear. She licks her lips, and fuck, that's my undoing. "You're delusional," she whispers, but her body's arching into mine, her hips grinding against my thigh.
I press closer, letting her feel how hard I am already, my cock throbbing against her belly. "Delusional? Baby, I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching. Like you want to climb me like a tree and ride me until you scream." I lean in, my mouth brushing her ear. "Admit it, Indigo. You hate how much you want my dick inside you, stretching that tight little pussy until you're begging for more."
She moans, low and needy, her head falling back against the wall. I release one wrist to slide my hand down her body, cupping her breast through the dress, thumbing her nipple until it's hard as a diamond. "Mack..." she breathes, and it's not anger anymore… it's surrender.
"That's right, say my name like that." I yank the zipper of her dress down, peeling it off her shoulders. No bra. Jesus, her tits are perfect, pink nipples begging for my mouth. I dip my head, sucking one hard, swirling my tongue while I pinch the other. She bucks against me, her free hand clawing at my shirt.
"God, you're so fucking wet for me already, aren't you?" I slide my hand between her legs, under her panties, finding her slick and ready. My fingers tease her clit, circling slow, then faster. "Look at you, dripping like a slut for your bodyguard. All that hate was just foreplay, huh? You need this cock to shut you up."