Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“We didn’t really meet.” He stands, every tall inch of him rising deliberately and slowly from his chair.
“Camryn.” I offer my hand, and he takes it, holding it lightly as he shakes. His persona may be cool, but his touch is fire, and the heat works its way through my body, all the way to between my legs. It makes me stand up straighter, the warmth generating a pulse deep in my belly.
“Dec,” he murmurs, his eyes on my mouth, surely noticing that I’ve had to part my lips to subtly pull in some air.
“That’s a pretty lame shake for a businessman, Dec.”
I can tell he’s amused, though his mouth doesn’t show it, only his eyes. “You want me to shake your hand like I’d shake the hand of the man I’m about to screw over?”
“Yes.”
His hold tightens. “Better?”
“Much,” I reply, tightening my hold too.
His head does that wonderful, thoughtful slight tilt again, his eyes twinkling. “Take a seat.”
“I’ve had too much to drink to do that.”
He nods, contemplative, and it’s so fucking sexy. His broodiness. His impassiveness. His detachment. How he isn’t revealing his cards. I like it. Most men I encounter in hotel bars lay it on thick. Throw some naff one-liners, chat-up lines, or a strategically placed fact about themselves hoping to impress and seal the deal. They never impress. I’m not interested in being impressed. I’m interested in escaping. Killing time. They help with that for a while. Until they don’t.
It’s unhealthy, even I, in my warped walk-through life, can appreciate that. Which is why I tell myself it won’t happen again, usually immediately after it’s happened. They never turn me on. Never make me come, so I do that myself. And they never spike the incredible tingles like I’m feeling all over my skin now.
“Don’t you trust yourself?” he asks.
I pull my hand from his, and it’s instantly cold again. “Not in the least.”
Lowering to his chair, Dec relaxes back, drink in hand, and kicks his ankle up onto his knee. Every perfect inch of him pushes against the material of his shirt and trousers, giving me a good idea of just how perfect he is beneath. “Well, it was nice to nearly get to know you, Camryn.”
“Good evening, Dec.” I slowly turn and walk away, stopping at the entrance when he calls my name. I’m forced to take a breath before I look back. He’s still relaxed in his chair. Still casual. Still impassive.
“You’re very beautiful,” he says quietly.
I don’t thank him, because he’s wrong. I get out of there before I do something utterly stupid. It wouldn’t be the first time, but I vowed the last time would actually be the last time.
You’re very beautiful.
He wouldn’t say that if he knew me. I’m a mess. No one truly wants a mess.
I push through the revolving door and break out into the cold, dark air, tying the belt of my coat, my shoulders a little hunched. The temperature has dropped, but the martinis will keep me warm on the walk home. The martinis are undoubtedly also the reason why I turn onto Regent Street and brave the pre-Christmas chaos, as well as the twinkling light displays stretching from one side of the street to the other.
Following the curve of the buildings, I walk slowly, dragging out my journey, unable to stop myself from taking in the faces of people I pass. Most smiling, either with someone or chatting on the phone.
My pace automatically slows as I approach a particularly busy stretch of the pavement, pedestrians stepping into the road to avoid the bottleneck of people trying to get into a store. A toy store. The sound of children screeching their delight invades my ears, parents laughing at the staff dressed as elves on the door blowing massive bubbles, enticing the kids into the magical wonderland full of toys and teddy bears.
I don’t realise I’ve stopped walking completely until someone brushes my shoulder as they pass me, making me stumble a few steps forward. I right myself quickly, catching my bag as it falls off my shoulder. “Excuse me,” I murmur, leaning back on my heels when a huge bubble appears before me. It hits the tip of my nose and pops, and an eruption of laughter breaks out, startling me more than the bubble. I glance around, seeing all attention pointed my way, and the six-foot elf responsible for blowing the bubble is approaching me. I can see what’s about to happen a mile off. I’m going to be used as a prop. Of course he’d find the most wretched person within reach. The person who looks like a challenge. I’m certainly that. “Oh, no,” I say, backing up as I lift my hand, warning him back with that too.
“Oh, yes!”
“No, no, no.” I laugh, nervous and wary, as children in the line outside the store start jumping up and down, egging the elf on.