Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you are not,” he enunciates.
“I’m off the clock at Tartine. Technically, you’re not my boss again until tomorrow.” I swallow hard, letting myself lean back against the cool metal locker. “And as much as I appreciate the position in your kitchen, I need the second job.”
His nostrils flare. “I will triple your pay if you quit the second job.”
“What?”
Golden eyes lock in on mine. “You heard me, little girl.”
My knees threaten to buckle, a silk fist twisting in my tummy. I open my mouth to issue a rejoinder, but no sound comes out. There is simply no breath in my lungs after what he’s just called me. Little girl. It’s almost like I undergo a transformation in the following seconds, those two shimmering words dangling in the air, turning the locker room to a dark den of sin. Why am I reacting so strongly to being called such a condescending nickname? I don’t know, but I can’t seem to stop my flesh from growing damper, my inner thighs softening like warm clay.
“Don’t call me that,” I whisper, shaken.
His focus narrows on my face, which is no doubt rosy cheeked.
It’s obvious that he finds my reaction to his “endearment” fascinating.
“Why shouldn’t I call you that?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, all too aware that my nipples have become throbbing spikes against my palms. “It’s not appropriate. Or accurate. I’m not a little girl.”
His attention settles on my hips, before trailing inward to my sex. Those golden eyes darken until I could swear they’re closer to obsidian. “You definitely don’t look like one right now. You look just old enough.”
“Old enough for what?” I whisper.
Draven drags a hand down his face, his conflict as plain as his…arousal for me.
Yes, that’s what it is. Arousal.
He wants me, I realize, perhaps late to the party.
I’m turning him on in this outfit.
I have the sudden destructive urge to drop my hands from my breasts. To let him look at me everywhere. To turn him on to an even sharper degree. But this man is my boss, and I don’t know a lot about the world—yet—but I know sleeping with an employer is frowned upon.
Also, I don’t even know how.
I’ve never even kissed a boy, let alone a man.
My parents made sure there were no opportunities to hang out with kids my own age growing up. Hence my being homeschooled. Confined to the house where I waited on them and my stepsiblings, hand and foot.
A need for freedom with my own body spikes inside of me, but I valiantly fight the feeling, keeping my breasts hidden.
“Old enough for what?” Draven repeats in a hoarse voice, sauntering toward me one measured step at a time. “If you don’t know, you shouldn’t be wearing that thong.”
What is happening to me?
He’s inches away from me now and I’m starting to tremble.
My body knows something is coming, but my brain is playing catch up, distracted by the rash of heat spreading inside of me, concentrated there. In that place no one has ever touched me. Draven plants a forearm above my head on the locker, his breath ghosting against my forehead, and I press my thighs together tightly, squirming back against the locker because my belly is so ticklish. So ticklish with his huge body closing in on mine.
“Put your hands down, Claire,” Draven says against my temple, his breath accelerating. “Let me see how sweet.”
I trap a moan behind my lips, encountering a hot whip crack of…lust?
Is that the sensation turning me molten?
Yes. No. I don’t know. But my instincts tell me Draven is good, Draven is safe, so I lift my chin and look him in the eye. And I slowly remove my hands, allowing him to look down at my naked breasts with their distended nipples. There’s no trapping the moan that releases from my mouth when he leans in, rubbing his white chef’s coat against those peaks, causing them to swell and strain all the more, a hot shiver moving through me, head to toe.
“Oh, my goodness,” I whimper, arching my back to get closer to him.
His open mouth rakes up my ear, those huge chef hands settling on my hips and gripping them tight. “Goddammit, I shouldn’t be touching you. I’m your boss.” Not sure what to say to that, I bite my lip and look up at him for guidance. Something about the way I’m looking at Draven seems to weaken his resolve, a low curse breaking from his lips as his palms skate higher along my sides, his thumbs dragging up and over my hard nipples.
“Ohhh,” I whine, vibrating. Clutching the front of his shirt, in desperate need of an anchor suddenly, because my knees are shaking. Everything is shaking. “I feel funny.”
He cups my breasts fully now, massaging them in his hands, his open mouth against my cheek. Right there. So close to kissing me. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re shaking with excitement. Not fear, right, Claire?”