Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Maybe I should send them a fruit basket.”
“I think they’d appreciate a good night’s sleep instead.”
His eyes twinkle. “I hope I’ll be a little sleep deprived too by the time you leave.”
My heart leaps to life. Blood pours through my brains at a manic level. Every cell in my body goes into overdrive, hoping to come into contact with the hard body just a few feet away from me.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I set my glass on the counter beside his.
“I think we need to communicate a little better about a few things before I get too settled in,” I say, my voice steady thanks to years in high-pressure courtrooms.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “What do we need to communicate about?”
“Well, for one, I’m not against having sex with you. I mean, clearly. But I want to be clear that I didn’t agree to stay here just to sleep with you.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Good,” I say, forcing a swallow. “Also, let’s be clear that I do expect to stay in a guest room. It’s imperative that we keep this thing between us straightforward, so it’s not problematic when I leave in a few days.”
He lifts a brow, his jaw flexing. “You’re talking like my hospitality is something to be negotiated.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” His arms fall to his sides. “I can forgive you because I suspect that most things in your life are a contract or agreement.”
“Aren’t all things in life?”
He rolls his eyes. “Follow me.”
“Where are we going?”
He doesn’t bother with an answer. Instead, he makes his way back down the hall, past the overpriced artwork, and to the foyer. He gathers my bags and briefcase in his large hands.
“Holt,” I say, catching up to him. “What are you doing?”
“Putting things in the guest room.”
He flashes a look my way that makes me think that was his original intent. And that makes me flush with embarrassment as I ascend the staircase next to the grandfather clock.
We stop at the first door on the right. He flips on a light.
“Here you go,” he says, setting my things on an antique four-poster bed. “There’s a bathroom just for this room through that doorway.” He motions to his right. “You can stay here as long as you want. My room is down the hall.”
I suck up my pride. “I apologize if I was rude.”
“You weren’t rude. Just … presumptuous.”
“Well, I apologize for being presumptuous.”
He studies me. His eyes narrow as he works his bottom lip between his teeth. Finally, it pops free. “I’m going to need you to do one thing for me if you stay.”
“Oh, sure, put conditions on me now,” I say, hoping he takes it as the joke it’s meant to be.
If he does or doesn’t, I’ll never know. He simply continues to watch me carefully.
“I invited you into my home to stay with me as a friend,” he says. “Whether we’ve had sex or not doesn’t matter. I enjoy spending time with you—even when you’re a presumptuous little darling.”
“Hey!”
He chuckles. “You’re going to need to stop talking to me like a business associate and more like a friend. Okay? While I find your prowess insanely attractive and also kind of adorable, I really don’t want to feel like I’m at a business meeting in my own home.”
His words ring through my ears and bury themselves in my heart. Do I do that?
I try to think back to the words I use when communicating with my friends—or my family because I don’t really have a lot of friends. I have a way of getting to the point. I’m aware that I have a tendency to take over situations and impose myself in decisions.
But do I talk to people like business associates? I don’t know. What I do know is that I need to steer this conversation into easier waters.
“I suppose my problem is that I didn’t know we were friends,” I say, a grin tugging at the corner of my lips.
“You didn’t?”
“I didn’t.”
“That’s interesting. Do you often agree to stay with men you aren’t friends with?”
I bite my bottom lip. “Only when I need fucked.”
His eyes light up as his whole face comes alive. His tongue works around his cheek as his entire body moves with each breath he takes.
Watching him react to me—and forgetting the previous conversation—is a treat. The way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and how his thick neck rolls around his shoulders are things I commit to memory for later use.
He closes the distance between us in two seconds flat. His eyes bore into mine. My breathing becomes labored as I imagine his hands roaming across my body the way they did before—cupping my breasts, caressing my cheeks, and guiding me closer by pressing against the small of my back.