Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
“No.” She sounded a little nervous. She cleared her throat. “No, I don’t know how to dance. I never went to prom.”
“Did anyone ask you?”
“No. No one did.”
“That sucks. You know, I could teach you how to dance.” He would do anything for her, and any excuse to hold her, he was more than happy to use.
“I didn’t miss anything. If I’d been at prom, I wouldn’t have been with my parents when they … died.” She nibbled her lip, and the moment was gone.
James wanted to growl at how fucking stupid he’d been. Of course the last time she’d not gone to a party was prom night. No guy had asked her, so her parents had taken her out to dinner. On their return, her father had stopped to fill up the car with gas, only for there to have been a drive-by shooting. One of the kids working there had run with the wrong crowd.
It was the classic wrong place, wrong time.
****
Cleaning came naturally to Emily. She loved to get a place that was a complete and total mess and to put her stamp and charm on it. Getting the job as James Stork’s cleaner was quite the accomplishment, one she took great pride in achieving. She wanted to impress him.
He’d been there for her when she needed him the most. Whenever she needed a shoulder to cry on, he’d be there. Someone to talk to. Even though he was her boss, she wanted more. Only, she didn’t know how to build it up in order to get more from him. She’d never been in a relationship before. Never craved a man’s touch the way she did James.
With his hands on her body, she knew everything she wanted was right in front of her.
“See, you’re dancing and you’re doing a wonderful job.”
She giggled.
Get a damn grip. You’re not a schoolgirl.
James was a lot older than she was. Twenty years in fact.
He was forty years old, but when she looked at him, she didn’t see an old man. She saw so much more. She loved his black hair with the hints of grey. She loved the brownness of his eyes, and they were always so intense as they stared right back at her. She could become addicted to just watching him, or at least having him stare at her. His body was made of pure muscle. Every single inch of him was hard as rock, and he didn’t care what anyone thought of him either. His ink, which he never tried to hide, was always on display, enhancing the thickness of his arms, and peeking out from his collar.
He was rough all around the edges, taller, harder, and showed so much strength. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
She knew, deep down, he wasn’t a good guy. Not really. He’d once warned her he had to do some bad things. She’d heard about the fights that broke out at his bar, and he had a reputation for taking care of everything.
“The women must be all over you during these parties,” she said.
Don’t sound jealous.
He chuckled. “I don’t dance.”
“What?”
“I don’t dance with any of the women.”
“But you’re an amazing dancer.”
“I know.”
She averted her gaze, looking at his chest, wondering what could have possibly happened for him to not want to dance with a woman.
“Well I guess I feel honored to have gotten the chance to dance with you.”
“You, Emily, can dance with me any time you want.”
Her heart started to race.
The look in his eye, it reminded her of temptation, of need. Of something so incredible it was hard for her to not want it. Her nipples felt heavy, and an answering pulse spread between her thighs.
“Erm,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat. “I better get back to work. These floors won’t clean themselves.” She pulled out of his hold, grabbing her mop, and finishing off the perfectly clean spot.
What the hell are you doing?
You wanted him.
Why aren’t you taking him?
Stupid girl!
Exactly, you’re a girl. Not a woman. You’re nothing.
Tears threatened to spill out, but she held them back. They wouldn’t do her any good. Why cry about something she couldn’t change? Without looking back at him, she picked up her bucket of dirty water and walked out the back, throwing the water to the ground.
“Hello, darlin’,” Nancy, one of the waitresses said, startling her.
“Hey, Nance. You look beautiful.”
“Don’t I know it? I feel beautiful as well.” Nancy was a really nice woman. She had three kids, and her husband had died a couple of years ago. “The boss man in?”
“Yes, he’s inside.”
“Excellent.” Nancy walked up to her. “You know, you need to stop hiding this beautiful hair and face. You are a stunner, girl. I could teach you a few things.”
“She doesn’t need to be taught anything,” James said.