Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 151430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
My checkbook is still in my pocket, no bribe written.
Guess that’s what happens when you’re such a colossal fucknugget people won’t even pay you to shut your yap.
Paige wears a black and gold thin-strapped dress with a cowl neck.
My eyes are in flames.
The way it dips between her breasts drives me crazy. If this weren’t a business arrangement—if it weren’t expiring—I’d be the luckiest man in the world and I’d damn sure have her in my bed.
A hand slips around her hip and I pull her closer, holding in a lustful purr. The move feels normal after doing it the past few days.
Like Nick said, we have to act the part. Happily engaged. Blissfully gliding on everything but the agonizing ache in my balls.
“You’re beautiful. I mean that sincerely. You always are, but the way that dress fits you today...fuck. No one’s going to be able to rip their eyes off you, Paige.”
Her green eyes shine when she smiles and bites her lip. “Well, thank you.”
“She is beautiful and no one ever takes their eyes off of her,” Reese says.
How did I forget we have an audience?
She’s right, though. The way Nick stared her down when she started working with us, I thought she’d end up another notch on his bedpost. I would have strangled him.
“Ward, you’re cruising with a lady way out of your league. Be good to her,” Reese chimes in again.
I roll my eyes for the thousandth time. Why did Grandma hire such an annoying driver?
“And you’ll be jobless if you keep up the rolling commentary,” I growl.
“Just trying to help you out, man,” she says with a shy shrug.
Paige hasn’t broken eye contact with me yet.
Her smile deepens. “I’m not sure he’d be that easy to replace.”
Shit.
Does she mean that, or is she just playing nice?
“Sure, he is,” Reese says. “It’s Chicago. Billionaire bad boys are a dime a dozen around here.”
“But they don’t all have Poseidon eyes, right?” Paige says, twining that sunshine hair around one finger.
Now she’s calling me the god of the sea?
It’s like she’s on a mission to destroy me today.
She’s wearing some perfume that throttles me with every whiff, and she’s so close I could devour her.
My head inches forward, magnetically drawn.
She doesn’t pull away.
Does she want it too, or is she just faking? I lean a little closer and raise the screen between us. If this happens, it’s private. For our eyes and wandering mouths only.
Our lips are practically touching.
She hasn’t moved away.
If she isn’t backing out, I’m not either.
Before I can flog myself back into denial, my lips claim their target. She leans in, a flutter slipping out of her. I lick her lips for the faintest second, but pull away before it goes further than a wet peck.
“I probably should have asked,” I rumble.
“I’m wearing your ring.” Her cheeks go rosy pink.
She reminds me of our words from the night we agreed to this.
The rules are different.
They are, and right now, they’re turning me into a raging bull.
My arm around her tightens and I’m about to lay it on thick when the car jolts. I look up, annoyed.
Reese pulls up to the curb at the museum and glances back at us. “Here. Party hard, guys!”
Paige laughs. “Yeah, right. This Winthrope guy’s the only person I’ve ever met with a slower pulse than the Warden.”
“Way to ruin our moment,” I whisper to Paige. “Knock it off, you two. I’ll lose a client with your big mouths.”
Reese giggles in the front seat.
I step out of the car and hold the door for Paige.
She steps out and laces her fingers through mine. “I’m a little nervous. Your friends live in a different world than me.”
“It’s an art fundraiser. You’ll have plenty to talk about. Your depth of knowledge impressed me from the moment we met.” I chuckle. “Actually, it more than impressed me then, because I thought you were drunk. I’d never had a drunk girl talk architecture before.”
“One glass, dick. And had I known my art talk gets you all hot and bothered, I would’ve—”
“I know that now,” I say, not giving her a chance to finish that sentence. “I didn’t think anyone could be so clumsy after a single glass of wine.”
“I don’t need wine to be clumsy, Ward.”
“I know. You’re lucky I agreed to one-inch heels today,” I say.
The smile falls off her face. “Are you worried I’ll embarrass you today? I’ll try to sit out most of the night. Less of a chance I’ll plow something over.”
I hate the deflated look on her face enough to wonder who put it there. What kind of losers does this girl hang out with?
“I’m walking in with the most stunning woman in Chicago on my arm. Nothing embarrassing about that, even if I do sometimes worry you’ll break a bone in shoes taller than a centimeter.”