Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Even that didn’t jerk me out of my daze. I was a private person. I didn’t have social media, something that confounded Kiera every day of her social media obsessed life. I didn’t like photos being taken of me. Not because I had some kind of murky past with an old boyfriend looking for me or something dramatic. I simply didn’t like attention. Which might’ve confused people considering the culinary world was filled with narcissistic attention seekers looking for fame. But there was also a decent amount of us there for the passion, the art of it.
The attention should’ve made my skin crawl. I should’ve pulled out of Kane’s grip and slunk out of the spotlight. But I didn’t. Couldn’t. Not just because his grip was vice-like. But because I didn’t want to.
I cast my gaze down from the prying eyes and phones but otherwise let the moment be captured. Surely, these people were acting like sheep; one sports fan took a photo, then the person beside them followed suit because they didn’t want to miss out on capturing the moment they brushed elbows with someone famous.
The photos would sit on the phones, forgotten by the next drink, I was certain.
Suddenly, we were no longer in the overly warm and crowded room that smelled of salmon canapés and too much aftershave; we were in the crisp New York air, the smell of crushed leaves welcome to my senses.
We passed the valets and people coming and going in a haze. I was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to remain composed as the heat from Kane’s body merged with the chill of the autumn air.
The party was held on the Hudson, in an industrial district that was quiet at night. The city never slept, but parts of it lay dormant, waiting for someone to rouse it. Rounding the corner, past the bustle of the party, the road was desolate, no rogue partygoers, no cabs, no one. Except me and Kane.
A man I’d just met.
Taking me down a dark alley.
Granted, he was supposedly very famous and hadn’t exactly taken me by force, but I knew how quickly situations could change. Fame and the spotlight did not turn scoundrels into gentlemen. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Despite my initial reaction to the man, unease prickled up my spine.
As if sensing me tensing, Kane stopped, so I stopped with him.
“This is me.” He motioned to a motorcycle that was parked along the brick side of a building. My knowledge of motorcycles was slim to none, but I could tell from the sleek shape, the color and the gleam of chrome that it was probably an expensive one. One he’d left on an abandoned side street of the city. The flippancy of someone with too much money or the ego of someone who thought they were untouchable, I didn’t know.
“You want me to escort you back to the party, I’m happy to do it,” Kane offered.
I tore my gaze off the bike and focused on him. The night was thick and closing in fast, but there was enough glow from the streetlights to show the sincerity on his face.
Though I didn’t know anything about the man beyond his name, nickname and profession—if daredevil was a profession—I got the impression he was somewhat experienced with women. The wantonness in his gaze, the ease in which he’d sauntered over to me... The fact that he was rich and famous and handsome. Yes, he’d had experience.
But he wasn’t assuming because I’d said yes in a crowded room while holding a drink meant I couldn’t change my mind before going to a second location with him. He was making sure I still wanted this.
Kane Rhodes was sexy.
Kane Rhodes establishing consent was somehow even sexier.
“No,” I stated firmly, squaring my shoulders. “I do not want to go back to the party.”
It was the safer option.
But tonight, just for tonight, I wanted to dance with this devil.
Although he might’ve just asked the gentlemanly question, the grin that stretched upon his face was most definitely devilish.
His grip flexed at my hip.
“Don’t worry.” His tongue darted out to wet his plump lips. “I won’t go too fast.”
“You better go too fast,” I raised a brow at him. “I’m expecting you to live up to your reputation.”
He blinked at me, then his face got hungry and sexy, and my pussy pulsated.
Actually pulsated.
I didn’t think men could literally make that happen.
“Jesus,” he muttered, grabbing the back of my neck and yanking me to him so our lips crashed together.
My body responded to him immediately and violently. I was ready to climb up his body like it was a tree, so I could grind my pussy against his hard cock.
I knew his cock was hard because our bodies were pressed together.
He was well-endowed.