Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 667(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Mia,” he says softly, and I swear I feel his voice like a caress of his hand.
“Grayson,” I say, and his name feels as right as it does wrong on my tongue. So right. So wrong.
“I didn’t expect you,” he says. “Ever.” There’s a sudden coldness to his tone that stabs at me, a sharp bladed knife.
I’m an attorney and I’m good at my job. I maintain my control and I do it well, but I react now when I don’t want to react. “This was a mistake,” I say. “Forget I was here.” I step around him and off the stairs, but he catches my arm and turns me to face him. Heat radiates from his hand, up my arm, and over my chest and Lord help me, my nipples are hard.
“There are many mistakes between us,” he says. “Don’t make coming here and backing out another one.”
He’s right, but that’s my only thought. I can’t think when he’s touching me. I’ve never been able to think when this man touches me. “Can you not touch me, please?” I whisper.
He releases me like I’ve burned him when he’s the one who burned me, his jaw hardening, his eyes icing. “Let’s go inside,” he says, motioning me forward, and I know this man. I still know him so very well. I hurt him just now. Why do I care that I hurt him? He practically took a knife and cut me open.
And yet, I do. “Grayson,” I begin, not sure what I’m about to say or if I’ll regret it, but he cuts me off.
“Let’s go inside, Mia,” he orders, anger in the depth of his voice when he rarely allows anyone to see anger, but then, this is me and I was always the one that broke through all that steel and control. Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe I just thought I did because nothing was what I thought it was with Grayson.
I head up the stairs and he doesn’t pull the power play of following me. That’s not his style. He’s at my side, and we fall into step as we walk to the porch, giving me the façade of sharing control. You don’t share control with Grayson. You just think you do. That’s where I went wrong with this man. I thought I was different. I believed I shared control with him. I believed I shared a lot of things with him, but I didn’t. He owned me and the problem is that I wanted to be owned, but those days are over. He will never own me again.
He opens his door, and I don’t know why I do it, but I look over at him and when his eyes meet mine, I do just what I said I wouldn’t do. I fall into the sweltering heat of our years of history and melt for this man in a way no other man has ever made me melt. I hate him. I love him. I hate him. And as if it somehow protects me from all that he is to me, I dart inside the foyer of his home.
Chapter two
Mia
The past, two and a half years ago
Ileave the first day of my job as an associate with my head spinning. The Bennett firm is a massive operation, expanding across the world, and even outside the legal profession, which I now know is driven by the heir-apparent son. Grayson Bennett apparently wants to rule the world and he’s succeeding. It’s exciting to have this much opportunity after being stuck in a small firm that had a ceiling, thanks to my finances forcing me to attend a small school part-time to get my law degree. Finally, I’ve opened doors to a better future. Finally, I have the chance to yank my father out of poverty in Brooklyn.
Exiting the elevator, I start thinking about the case that I was put on today and how to approach winning. I need to have a plan that helps the partner I’m working under. I need to prove I can handle my own cases, the way I did at my prior firm. I hurry toward the exit and push through the glass doors on a mission. Home. Work. Research. I turn right and collide with a hard wall with such force it rattles my teeth.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, as strong hands come down on my shoulders, while my hands have now settled on the broad chest of a man wearing an expensive three-piece suit. “I’m sorry. I was—” I lose that thought as I look up into his green eyes and my lips part in stunned shock. He’s gorgeous. Perfect. Overwhelmingly perfect.
“No apology needed,” he says softly and oh so very intimately, or maybe I’m imagining that because come on. What girl doesn’t want this man to speak to her and only her? “In fact,” he adds. “I think this is the best part of my really crappy day.”