Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Kidding.” He grins huge. “I’m joking.”
“Oh, you asshole.” I laugh out of sheer relief.
“I should be insulted that you believed I’d record you without your consent, you know.”
“Okay, that’s fair, but I thought the hotel might keep a camera in here to make sure people aren’t doing, you know.”
“What we just did?”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
“No, that’d be a huge violation.” He kisses my neck. “But if you ever do want to film something—”
“No, god, no, thanks though. I don’t ever want to know what my face looks like when I come.”
He tilts his head. “You’re beautiful. I’d like to get a better look. Maybe next time, I’ll fuck you on your back and stare into your eyes as you finish on my cock.”
I shiver, biting my lip. “Next time? Here I was, thinking we both admitted this was a mistake and there wouldn’t be a repeat performance.”
“Mistakes are more fun when you keep on making them.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“Sure it does. Trust me.”
I shimmy slightly and slip off his lap. “We should get back to the party. Allison probably already noticed our absence.”
He stares at my chest. I like his attention, but now that the heat of the moment’s wearing off, I’m just… sweaty and self-conscious. There’s the voice in my head, questioning everything.
I pull on my clothes, starting with my bra.
“That’s a shame,” he says with a sigh. “I was really enjoying the view.”
“Tough luck.” Once I’m good enough, I get out of the sauna. The cool air is such an enormous relief. I’m a sweaty mess, and it’s hard to get my jeans over my ass, but eventually I’m covered.
He emerges next, fully dressed, the sauna shut down behind him. “Come on,” he says, frowning. “Do you hear that?”
“I don’t—” But then I notice it. The low rumble of voices shouting, laughing, cheering.
He strides across the room and outside. I hurry to keep up.
The party’s a wreck. People are going crazy, drinking straight from bottles, flipping over chairs, tossing torches into the pool. Conlan’s security guys are trying to keep the peace, but it looks like everyone is blackout drunk.
I gape, trying to make sense of what’s happening. I check the time on my phone—and realize we were gone for at least an hour.
How the hell were we gone for so long? It felt like thirty seconds. Or maybe forever.
“Damon,” Conlan barks until the head of security comes running over. “Shut this down. Bring in more muscle if you have to. What the fuck is going on? Get rid of those goddamn bottles.”
“Sir, I’m afraid there’ll be a riot if we turn off the free alcohol.”
“Make it happen.” Conlan looks back at me. “I’m taking my wife home.”
“Yes, boss.” Damon runs off, shouting orders, and manages to drag one girl away from jumping head-first into the shallow end of the pool.
Conlan offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
I hesitate. Where are we now that he went down on me? I’m not sure how this changes our relationship.
But the place is utter insanity.
“Let’s go.”
We start across the pool. But before we get away, Allison’s voice cuts through the madness. “Where are you two going and why do you both look so sweaty?”
“Home,” Conlan growls. “And you’d better hope this party breaks up soon.”
“Right, sure, enjoy home,” Allison says, grinning as if she knows what we did.
I want to tell her nothing happed, which would be a lie, but she gets pulled into a conga line of revelers passing back a bottle of tequila, and I’m being dragged away by my husband.
My very big, very attractive, very sweaty husband.
Chapter 25
Conlan
I wake Isabel up early the next morning with coffee. “Don’t get used to this.”
“You’re bribing me,” she says. “It’s five-thirty in the morning.”
“We need to make sure the Lincoln’s still standing. Car leaves in a half hour.”
She gives me a pure death glare, but that’s okay.
I still have her taste on my tongue.
The taste of her skin. The taste of her pussy, her sweat. Her nipples and lips. Isabel was all I could think about all night and my dreams were a fucked-up mess. I had to get myself off twice just to fall asleep.
But now it’s back to reality.
That party infected us. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the environment, but the second she admitted that she’s been jealous for years was the moment I knew I’d cross that line.
I have no regrets.
Except for maybe waking her up early.
Isabel’s grumpy on the way over to the hotel. She’s not in a talkative mood, which is fine, I get it, I forced her to get less sleep, though I do notice that she’s still drinking the coffee I made her in a to-go mug.
For some reason, that makes me smile.
It’s strange, this feeling. Wanting to do good things for her. Wanting to make her happy, and feeling happy in return.