Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out. “I lost track of time.”
Tinsley tosses her shirt and shimmies out of her shorts while I fumble with the zipper on the dress. I manage to yank it down and step out of it but not before tripping over the material and falling on my ass.
“Calm down,” Tinsley says with a laugh. “It wouldn’t be the first time I was late to a party. Breathe, Ash.”
“I broke your shoe,” I grumble, showing her my bare foot.
“I have others,” she assures me with a twinkle in her blue eyes. “Did you at least have fun?”
My mind immediately goes to the pantry where Winston and I behaved very badly. Crimson licks over my bare skin, heating my cheeks. “Lots.”
“Good. Don’t be a stranger.” She disappears into her giant closet and a few moments later, she returns a few inches taller having put on heels. “Nice meeting you.” With a quick wave, she slips out of the bedroom, leaving me alone.
I’m still sitting on the floor in my strapless bra and panties with one shoe on, my heart pounding in my chest when I hear a soft click. Snapping my head toward the door, I let out a breath of relief to see Winston standing there in all his villainous glory. He holds up my shoe.
“Lose something, Cinderelliott?”
“Don’t you have to do toast time with Mommy?”
His eyes darken as they peruse my partly naked form. “Have a stumble?”
“You missed an epic fall. One you’d have paid good money for too.”
He tosses the shoe aside as he prowls my way. My skin heats for a whole different reason than earlier from my embarrassing fall. Winston isn’t a match of lust tossed on my papery thin resolve to be a good girl; he’s a bomb with a short fuse, exploding whenever I’m near. I have to crane my neck back to see his tall form as he stands over me, a gorgeous golden god whose interest has fallen to a mere mortal.
“I like seeing you like this,” he rumbles, his voice a deep timbre that rattles its way through my every bone.
“Looking like your sister?” I throw back.
His nostrils flare, and I laugh because I quite enjoy riling him up sometimes. He squats down in front of me, raising his hand like he might cradle my cheek. I lean toward his open palm and then cry out in surprise when he yanks my wig off. My eyes latch onto his lust-filled ones as he begins to roughly pluck pins from my hair, pulling strands from my scalp. Even though it stings, I like his undivided attention as he transforms me from someone meant to look like his sister back to his lover.
“What am I to you?” I ask, biting down on one corner of my bottom lip, searching his intense stare.
“Mine.”
Pleasure floods through me, pooling in my pelvis. “Your what?”
“You’re not rich enough for those words, little girl.”
“I have a great job. I could earn the money pretty quick I’m sure.”
He smirks. “Is that so?”
“I’m a hard worker, and I’ve learned to negotiate my salary.”
“Why can’t you just accept that you’re mine and that’s it?”
“Because you say it like one of your buildings. Or your cars. Or your watches.” I wince when he pulls out pins close to my face. “I’m more than your property, Win, and you know it.”
His blue eyes harden slightly. It’s a punch to the gut, making me feel delusional. I’m positive he’s not all granite and ice. Sometimes there’s warmth. Sometimes he’s human. I just have to work on pulling that side out of him more.
“Needy,” he grumbles after he tosses the last pin away and scratches his fingers along my scalp, messing my hair up. “So fucking needy.”
“Most girlfriends are.”
“You’re not my girlfriend.”
“Basically.”
He snorts. “We fuck, and I pay you to do demeaning shit. If you’re my girlfriend, that makes me an asshole.”
Apparently, I’m falling for one.
“Since when do you care about being an asshole?” I challenge. “Say it. Say, ‘Ash Elliott is my girlfriend.’”
“No.”
I make a face at him, dramatically rolling my eyes. “Whatever. I was willing to pay for it.”
Would we be anything if we removed the money that binds us?
You can’t purchase chemistry. You can’t put a price on effortless conversation. I believe we can be. One day I’ll prove it to him.
“You didn’t make that much money downstairs.”
“I was going to barter.”
His eyes darken. “I’ll think up a fitting trade.”
“I’ll be ready.”
He rises to his feet and then pulls me to mine. I let out a squeal when he throws me over his shoulder as though I weigh nothing, smacking my bare thigh hard. “I don’t have time for this game, but rest assured, Cinderelliott, it will continue.”
“Where are we going?” I demand as soon as he opens the bedroom door, my heart freezing in my chest.