Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
And that’s what I really wanted to do.
“I like hearing you talk.” I like hearing your voice. I kept that last part to myself. I saw her cheeks become a little bit redder at my words, and I knew it wasn’t from the alcohol but because of my words. I like that I affected her, that I could say something sweet, a compliment that was every bit the truth as I’d ever spoken in my life, and she reacted to it. “Tell me more about yourself.”
She stared at me with this innocence, this vulnerability that called to my basic, primal male urges. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. Anything.” I hadn’t meant to say it like that. But it was the truth nonetheless.
Again, her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink.
And so for the next half hour, I listened to her tell me about her family, that she was raised by her single mother, that she had no siblings. I listened to her time at the community college, how she secretly hated it.
“Tell me about your love of reading.”
She could tell me about folding laundry and I’d be transfixed, mesmerized. I just wanted to hear her speak, to let her voice travel through me and further cement my need to claim her.
She told me about her love of Shakespeare, how she’d fallen in love with Poe at a young age. She enjoyed romances, historicals, and all nonfiction books.
Beatrix fascinated me to no end, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that letting her go was not an option.
Chapter Nine
Beatrix
My mouth was dry as Logan helped me down the steps of the restaurant. It was strange to be the only ones here, and even weirder that Logan had all but bought the place for the night so we could be alone. He’d gone above and beyond for one night. Did he always go to these extremes for a date, or maybe he was just really making this night memorable, because he could sense what a homebody I really was, and because this was for charity?
Or maybe I’m just overthinking things.
I’d seen the way he watched me the entire time, tracking my movements as I ate and drank. His eyes had been locked on my mouth, this hungry look in his expression. And I’d been so nervous that I’d consumed far more wine than I should have. A nice buzz swam through my body, the alcohol moving swiftly through my veins.
Logan had hung onto every word I’d spoken, and the fact that he seemed so genuinely interested in what I said had me telling him more, far more than I’d ever told anyone. We stayed at the restaurant for over two hours, and most of it had been me talking, running on and on, because that’s what happened when I drank. And the truth was, I was so nervous, because of my attraction to him, this connection and pull I felt as I looked into his eyes. Even now, I remembered just last week when he’d been the winning bidder. Ten thousand dollars he’d spent on me, for two hours of dinner and me gorging myself on spaghetti and wine.
I forced myself to shut up during part of the meal, wanting to know more about him, what he liked, his dislikes. I knew the gist of him, his professional life, his advertising company, that he was wealthy, that he was smart. Of course, he went to an Ivy league school. Of course, he’d grown up in this lifestyle. But he didn’t fit the mold of the rich I’d also come across. He wasn’t snobby or pretentious. He was kind and genuine, and the looks he gave me had my core heating.
I glanced at him, his profile showing a square-cut jaw, clean-shaven skin. His nose was masculine, his lips full. He was brutal in his beauty, yet I wouldn’t call him classically handsome. I couldn’t explain why I felt this attraction to him. It was instant, powerful. I’d never felt anything like it before. It scared me but excited me, and although I should be hesitant with this arousal, with the fact that a simple touch from him felt like an electrical current shooting up and down my body, I didn’t want to push it aside. I wanted to explore it, see how far I could take it, how good it could feel.
Because as it was right now, I felt high and drunk, floating yet falling. It pulled me in so many directions I didn’t know what was up from down. This certainly wasn’t normal, and we only had this one date… the one he won.
But, God, I wanted this to last a lifetime.
The wind picked up, causing my hair to flutter around my face. I didn’t bother pushing the strands away and instead watched him still. He had his hand in mine, and although it was such an innocent touch, one he’d done to help me down the stairs so I couldn’t fall, it felt like so much more to me.