Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 60711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
That was when Paul leaned close, his lips deliberately brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, “I know what you want to do to me.”
W-What—w-why was he making it sound so sordid like that?
“And I give you my word: once we’re inside my car, you can do whatever you want to me.”
Argh!
The words—the sheer insanity and unnerving accuracy of his words—had Andie tripping over her own feet as they emerged from the doors.
Oh, if only she could just run away from him.
If only!
But standing in front of her was yet another obstacle—
“Evening, Ms. Jackson!”
Butch stood beside a sleek black limousine,looking every bit the proud employee in his crisp driver’s uniform as he grinned at her.
All she could do was smile weakly as he opened the door to the backseat.
“Told you we’d see each other again,” he said.
“You did indeed, Butch.”
It was the only thing she could manage. And all she could do was grit her teeth as she slid inside the limo—and Paul followed her in.
“Take us home, Butch.”
“Yours, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Understood, Mr. Mitropoulos.”
The privacy window slid up behind Butch as the limo pulled away from the curb. And when Paul finally turned his full attention to her—
“Don’t think you’ve won this round!”
The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them, her logic overpowered by her—well—annoyance.
Unfortunately, it only had the billionaire looking at her with a painfully bored expression.
“Don’t start.”
“Don’t start what?”
“Lying to yourself.” He stretched one arm along the back of the seat. Not touching her. But close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. “I would rather you stay as you are. Exquisitely. Uniquely. And foolishly honest.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“That’s your prerogative, koukla mou. But know that it wasn’t entirely meant to be one.”
She should be getting more and more annoyed. But instead, he had her scrambling hard to keep her face expressionless—
This was so, so bad.
Because his smile had changed. It was no longer jaded. No longer mocking. Instead, it was frighteningly genuine. And she hated it—
“You looked it up, did you not?”
—because it meant he had guessed right.
“And you like it.” His voice dropped. Softened. Became something almost tender, and somehow that was worse. “That I call you my doll.’”
Andie lifted her chin.
He raised a brow.
Moments passed.
The limo hummed beneath them. The city slid by beyond the tinted windows. And then—
He laughed.
And unfortunately, this also sounded terribly genuine.
“So this is how you are.” He was studying her now, gray eyes intent, like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “When you don’t want to lie, but you don’t want to admit the truth either.”
Andie shrugged.
Less said, less mistakes. It was one of the earliest lessons she’d learned, growing up on the wrong side of—
“How about this, then?”
His arm moved, and that was it.
Ah!
One moment she was pressed against the far door, keeping as much distance between them as the limo allowed. The next, his hands were at her waist, and he was lifting her like she weighed nothing—
And then she was in his lap.
His lap!
Her thighs straddling his, her hands braced against his chest, and her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.
“I—you—”
“You were saying?” His hands remained at her waist. Steady. Patient. Like he had all the time in the world to wait for her to catch up.
But she could feel him beneath her.
Harder than anyone should be, and pulsing so powerfully against her that it became a rhythm that threatened to hypnotize her senses.
“This is—” Andie tried to find the words. Tried to find the outrage she should be feeling. “This is completely—”
“Inappropriate?” One corner of his mouth curved. “Shocking? Unacceptable?”
“Yes!”
“Then push me away.”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his suit jacket, but that was it.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured.
Argh!
She wanted to try again.
Truly.
But it was already too late.
Because he was kissing her yet again, but this time...
Oh, this time...
It was nothing at all like that kiss in the library.
This kiss...
This kiss was meant to turn her into his property, with his mouth slanting over hers as his hand slid up to cup the back of her head, tilting her exactly where he wanted her. His tongue swept past her lips, and she heard herself make a sound—a small, desperate thing that would have embarrassed her if she’d had any brain cells left to feel embarrassment.
But she didn’t.
All she had was him.
The taste of him—dark and rich and faintly bitter, like espresso. The feel of him—solid and unyielding beneath her. The scent of him—something expensive and masculine that made her want to bury her face in his neck and breathe.
Her hips moved without her permission. A tiny shift. A restless seeking.
His grip on her waist tightened.
A groan rumbled through his chest, and she felt it vibrate against her palms.
And then he pulled back.