Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“Maybe because she’s not attracted to you, you dumb motherfucker.”
I balk at him, and he rubs at the wrinkles on his forehead. The cheeky bastard. Every woman is attracted to me. “She most certainly is, and not even you can argue that. You were here. In this office when she showed up.” He stood there, observing, watching. He probably even had to duck out of the way of the sparks that were flying. I’m taking drastic measures, but it’ll be worth it. I know it’ll be worth it.
“What is it about her?” he asks out of the blue.
I pull up, startled by his question. “Apart from not being able to get her out of my head?” I hit my temple with the ball of my hand a few times, demonstrating, like I’m trying to physically knock her out.
“Yes, apart from that,” he says, reconciling himself to taking a chair opposite my desk and settling in.
I try to locate the words I need, but I’m struggling to find a way to explain. Plus, I’m a little shell-shocked by the whole situation myself, still trying to navigate exactly what the fuck is going on with me at the moment, so I really don’t have much hope of enlightening John. But I must try. I sigh. “On Friday, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I felt my heart beating, John.” He recoils, and I laugh lightly. Yes. It was weird as fuck. “There was the initial attraction, of course, but after that, I found my mind focused on one thing, and it wasn’t alcohol. It was her. She set something off inside, and I’m fucked if I know what to do with it.”
“Maybe don’t corner her in your private suite in your exclusive sex club. And perhaps, maybe, tell her it’s a motherfucking sex club.”
Tell her? Is he mad? If Ava O’Shea is deflecting me now, she’d run for the hills if she knew what this place is. Not an option. “I’m not trapping her. I’m making her see.”
“See what?”
“I don’t know,” I grate, my hands going into my hair. “All I know is she makes me feel good and, like the drink, it’s becoming a bit addictive.”
“Becoming?”
“Is,” I admit. “It is addictive. She’s addictive.” Fuck me, I’ve not even been inside her. If I feel this pull toward her now, what will I be like after I’ve made love to her? Made love? Fuck. After I’ve fucked her. “Do you know how frustrating it is to want something but be refused for no good reason?”
“I think Miss O’Shea has plenty of good reasons.” He stands. “She just doesn’t know what the fuck they are.” He walks away from me. “Yet,” he adds, exiting my office. “You’re acting like a crazy motherfucker.”
I drop my forehead to my desk and roll it from side to side. “I fucking feel it,” I admit. But this sense of crazy is so powerful, it clouds everything else. And that is addictive too.
* * *
I’ve avoided leaving my office all day, especially since I know Coral is knocking around The Manor. My arse is well and truly numb.
I stand and stretch, glancing at my Rolex, and my stomach flips when I see it’s six thirty. She’ll be on her way, oblivious of what’s waiting for her. I hum to myself as I round my desk. That’s not strictly true. She knows what’s here at The Manor, namely me. And she still agreed to come.
In the evening.
Out of hours.
If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is. She’s curious about me. My fortitude gets another quick boost with that thought, and I exit my office, making my way through the summer room. I need to shower. Brush my teeth. Change. I cock my head in thought. Clothes? No clothes? Presenting myself naked might be pushing it. But, on the other hand, it could seal the deal. I glance down at my shirt-covered chest with a smile, diverting up the stairs and pulling my phone out to call John. “Where are you?” I ask when he answers.
“Extension. Checking the beams.” He hangs up, and I round the gallery landing, listening for any activity behind the closed doors. There are a few moans, nothing major. I just hope it stays that way.
I make it to John, finding him with a thick piece of rope in his grasp, the end tied to one of the beams, a stepladder set to the side. He’s removed his black suit jacket and tie.
“Want some help?” I ask, and he stops tugging, handing me the rope. I accept, happy to assist, giving it a few firm yanks before I reach farther up and wrap it around my fist. I let my feet leave the ground, hanging there. “Solid as a rock,” I confirm on a smile.