Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“I’m having a summer of fun,” she says. “Doing lots of different jobs. You know? Like you said, I don’t believe in limiting myself.”
She could be me at twenty. As a kid, family and friends would ask me what I wanted to do when I “grew up”. Ironic, given my mother played pretend for a living until she died at forty-four. I used to give a different answer every time—doctor, explorer, superhero. Not because I had changed my mind, but because I wanted to do all those things. That’s what’s so great about tech. It encompasses so much, from medicine to maps and everything in between.
She faces me wearing a full-on smile, like she’s a movie heroine returning home to find her lover waiting at the airport with a big sign. Except she’s not acting. There’s nothing affected about her smile. Her genuineness nudges something awake inside me that’s been long dormant.
I slide my hand across my chest, trying to push the feeling away.
“You okay?” she asks, like she can read my shift in focus.
I don’t think there’s anything this woman could say right now that could make me leave. She’s obviously gorgeous. Her skin is smooth like a peach and she has a freckle to the side of her mouth I want to lick off. And her lips? They’re full and ripe and luscious and… she’s every fantasy come to life.
But her openness? That’s why I’m not walking away. Her openness is a hook. And I’m the fish.
I’ve had enough of talking. I take off my jacket and throw it on the couch.
“You want a drink?” she asks and flips on a light switch.
I shake my head, flip the light switch back off and stalk over to her. She starts to step backwards, and I keep walking until she’s backed against the pillar to one side of the gigantic window.
Her laugh makes the muscles in my jaw tense, while the softness in her eyes makes me want to do Very. Dirty. Things.
It’s been longer than I like to think about since I’ve gotten laid. It doesn’t help that I’m stuck in the hotel for the moment, and I don’t want them knowing my business or who I’m fucking. I’m beginning to learn that hotel staff gossip, and I don’t like anyone gossiping about me, regardless of the name I’m using.
I dip down and sweep my lips across hers. Her fingers press against my jaw, and I feel my body start to take over my brain. Sex is a way of switching off—the ultimate relaxation and exactly what I need. To stop thinking. Just for an hour. Or two.
I lift her leg up over my hip and slide my hand down and under and between. All that’s standing between me and soft warm pussy is denim.
I bet she’s wet already.
Her breathing is shallow and her breasts push against my chest as she tries to breathe more deeply.
I reach for the hem of her t-shirt and pull it off in one swift movement. I just have to have more of her. Maybe it’s the accent or the way her skin seems to glow. Maybe it was the way she was trying to be kind to the scrawny bartender who was being a dick about giving her the fucking pretentious flashlight in the barely lit bar. They need lights so people can read the fucking menu, so people can fucking order. People should never feel awkward spending more money.
Am I the only person in New York with a business brain? Sometimes it feels that way.
Leo might be right—staying at the hotel might give me a competitive advantage. But I don’t want to think about that right now.
The half-naked woman in front of me is mine for tonight. That’s what I need to focus on.
I snap her bra clasp open and cup her breasts, rubbing a thumb over each nipple. Her breasts are bigger than I normally go for but they’re tight, nipples jutting out like they’re desperate for someone to pay them a little attention. She’s young.
Fuck. How young?
“Where did you go to college?” I hold my hands away from her like she’s pointing a gun at me.
The expression of bliss on her face gives way to a frown. “What?”
“College?” I snap. “Where did you go?” There’s no way I’m getting myself into the mess of fucking someone underage.
“Exeter. In England. Why?”
Fuck, I don’t know anything about English colleges. Exeter? Is that made up?
“You graduated?” I ask.
“Is this a job interview?” she asks. “You’re either going to put your hands on me or you’re going to have to leave. I don’t want a job. Not from you, anyway.”
For a split second, I want to ask her who she wants a job from. Most people would pay me to work for me. And then she reaches her hand to my crotch, and I come back to my senses.