Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
It’s not that I’m testing Riley, I just want to see the fruits of my labor. I want some initiative on her end, a show that she’s just as needy for my attention as I want her to be. She’s a shy little thing, and I know even texting me first was a big step for her, but that’s why I’ve been slowly setting up a bit of structure to the way we talk. Texts before she heads into the office, on her lunch break, random updates throughout the day, and when she gets home. I want the absence of conversation to make her uncomfortable, desperate for it.
Unfortunately, I’m an impatient bastard at heart. I’m back to tapping out an annoyed rhythm against the glossy top of my desk like I’m the desperate one in need of conversation.
My phone lights up, and I snatch it from the desktop before it even finishes vibrating, a triumphant grin on my face. It falls when I actually read the notification.
Thomas Vale: Doors open at 7, but you know you can show whenever you please. Got a table with your name on it.
Right, the auction.
As fun as Thomas’s events always are, the last thing I want is to go out and swat pawing hands away from me all night. All I want is Riley. A part of me regrets even telling him I might be there. He won’t hold it against me, but the thought of even promising that when I’m trying to pull in Riley tugs at my chest in a way I’m not used to.
Like guilt that shouldn’t be there.
I can’t help but imagine what it would be like taking Riley to that place. To see her put on display. For a moment the idea sounds appealing, then the thought of other men watching what’s mine slowly begins to sink in.
I don’t want to physically share her with anyone… but others watching me take what’s mine only makes the situation that much more desirable.
I groan in frustration, dragging a hand down my face as I swipe over to my text thread with her. I’m not the type to remind someone of my existence or ask for attention, but Riley gets a free pass, just this once.
Even though she hasn’t even read my last text where I told her I was wrapping up work.
Nick: Did you make it home safe, Miss Morgan?
Nicholas D’Amico, double texting. What has the world come to?
A response comes in before I can even set my phone back down. I refuse to feel relieved, leaning into smugness instead. I may not take up all of the space in Riley’s mind yet, but she still jumps at the chance to talk to me.
Just how I want it.
Riley: Hey! Yes, sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you!
Riley: Had a bit of a rough end of my day with some coworkers and then my best friend called and invited me out to some club tonight to get my mind off it.
A frown creases my brows at that. I thought she had an appointment. I swear to God, if Sloane is still finding ways to bother Riley, I’m going to send the bitch packing. She’s lucky she still has a job in the first place.
I type out a response, picking my words carefully so as not to give my identity away, but before I can hit send, another text comes in, and my mind goes utterly blank at the sight.
Two pictures light up my screen.
The first is Riley’s gorgeous face, free of glasses for once, with her hazel eyes highlighted by shimmery eyeshadow and a flick of eyeliner. Her chestnut hair is let down instead of pulled back like she always keeps it at the office, flowing in easy waves over her shoulders. She looks elegant and sultry at the same time, her lips painted with just a hint of glossy color, a delicate silver necklace resting between her collarbones.
The second is a full-body shot that nearly gives me a fucking heart attack.
If I thought she looked stunning at the gala, she looks fucking unreal now. She’s draped in a skintight silky cobalt blue dress with a slit up one thigh, her bare leg peeking out. Matching strappy heels give her a boost in height, but I have no doubt she’d still have to tip her head back to look up at me.
Fuck.
I need to see her in that dress.
I need to see her out of that dress.
Nick: Miss Morgan, you’ve outdone yourself. You look breathtaking. Where are you heading, all dolled up like that?
The thought of other men seeing her like this, wanting her, has me seeing red. No one should think they have a chance with her. They shouldn’t be able to lay eyes on her without the knowledge that she’s mine.