Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
He stares at me, time seeming to stretch out into infinity as he drinks in the sight of me.
No…
He’s not drinking in the sight of me at all.
That would mean he wants me, he’s attracted to me, and there’s no freaking way a hulking man like this would want me.
I push down the urge writhing and sizzling in my belly, screaming at me to leap across the office and claw onto this man’s chest, digging my fingernails in as his muscles threaten to snap my nails with how rock solid they are.
Why is he just staring at me like that?
I wonder if I’ve overdressed with my black pencil skirt and white shirt tucked into it, or maybe if he’s put off by how the outfit hugs my curvy body.
It’s the only dressy outfit I have, though.
“Hello,” I say when he just keeps staring. “I’m Daniella Smith, here to interview for the caretaker position?”
I curse myself when my voice trembles at the end, making it a question.
The corner of his lips twitch and he closes the door behind him, walking slowly across the room, his footsteps quiet for a man of his imposing size. He walks around to the other side of the desk, dropping into his chair.
His chair is twice the size of mine, a throne in comparison. I wonder if he does that as a power play, a way to make people feel small and nervous sitting opposite him.
“I am Dominik Dudnikov,” he says, his accent American and not at all Russian.
Maybe some surprise shows on my face – if he cares enough to decipher my expression – because his lips twitch again and he says, “I was born here, Miss Smith. My parents were Russian.”
“I… Okay.”
I want to whip my reply back the second I utter it. I sound like a confused naive teenager, when in fact I’m twenty and I’ve been fending for myself for as long as I can remember.
“Call me Daniella,” I say, trying to salvage. “Mr. Dud…”
Oh, crap.
I can’t remember what the second half of his surname is.
I trail off, my cheeks flaming.
He bares his teeth in something like a smile, light shimmering across his eyes as though he’s enjoying my discomfort.
Is this why he brought me here, to mock me, to make me feel small?
“You better call me Dominik or Dom,” he says. “Otherwise we may run into some problems.”
I bite my lip, staring down at the table as my cheeks bloom an even deeper shade of crimson. I can feel the blush spreading across my skin, down my neck, touching my throat as I try to regain some balance.
“Okay, Dom,” I say, his name tasting strange on my tongue.
Strange… and interesting.
I imagine moaning it into his ear when he’s got his hand clamped between my legs, rubbing hard, pumping his powerful arm as he brings me to a searing orgasm.
I push the absurd thought away.
I need to control myself.
He’d laugh – or kick me out in disgust – if I told him what was whirring through my mind.
“So, Daniella,” he says, causing a reverberation to move through my body when he uses my name. “Why do you want to give up your job at the veterinary clinic to work one-on-one with my dog?”
I force down another wave of nerves, the feeling of my name spoken in his gruff all-consuming voice almost too much to handle, the way it shivers across my skin almost driving me insane.
I bite my lip and then correct the gesture, reminding myself I need to come across as professional and controlled, not some nervous girl who can’t even sit through an interview without fidgeting.
And now here I am disappearing into my mind instead of focusing on the matter at hand, instead of thinking about Dom and his dog and my work.
I clear my throat, cursing myself silently.
“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime,” I say. “To be able to bond one on one with a dog… and be paid for it? It’s a really incredible opportunity. There’s no way I could turn this down.”
I don’t mention how my boss frowned at me when she gave me his name, how there was this feeling in the air that I had no choice.
I have to go along with whatever Dominik desires of me…
My mind floods with steamy vignettes of what exactly that could be, of his powerful hands moving over my body, bending me over as he stands behind me with that stern expression on his face.
“Work that dick for me,” I imagine him growling, grinding his manhood up and down my sex, my pussy so wet he almost slips inside of me. “Show me how bad you want this.”
Stop, stop, stop, I scream in my mind, but my overactive imagination won’t listen, as though something deep inside of me is compelling the images.