Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
"Yes, but in the back of a limo, there's plenty to do." I let my voice drop.
She pretends she doesn't understand my implication, but she still blushes. "I'll consider that."
"Or the helicopter."
"Or the helicopter." Her eyes go to the pot.
"I'll make more."
"No… I will."
That's a good idea. She'll be more comfortable fixing tea. And she—
Fuck, I don't know how I convinced her to love me the first time. That was a million years ago, before all this baggage between us.
How am I supposed to do it now that she hates me?
I stand. Offer my hand. When she takes it, I lead her into the kitchen.
Her eyes go wide as she takes in the expansive room.
It's enormous by New York standards, with a style rare in this part of town. Most new buildings have modern, utilitarian kitchens, all stainless steel and high-pressure appliances.
This kitchen is something Mom would have loved. Black and white tile, wide windows, pots and pans hanging over the ceramic sink.
Jasmine moves straight to the electric kettle. She fills it with water and sets the temperature to one hundred ninety degrees. Then she looks around the counter. Looks for something. "Don't tell me you threw out the leaves."
"They're finished."
She shakes her head. "They're better on the second steeping." Her gaze shifts to the cabinets. "Sometimes a third or fourth. With some green teas, a fifth or even a sixth. If you're using a pot this small. That's the Chinese way of brewing tea. Less water, more steepings."
I nod as if I appreciate the nuance.
"The leaves unfurl as they steep. They have different flavors every time."
I point to the one on the right.
She rises to her tiptoes to open it. Reaches for a tin of tea. Doesn't quite find it.
"Here." I place my body behind hers. For a moment, I feel her against me, feel all her warmth and softness. Then she shifts out of the way so I can grab the tin.
My hand brushes hers as I offer it to her.
Her chest flushes. She stammers something then stays busy scooping tea into the ceramic pot. "This is really meant for black tea."
"Is it?"
She nods. "You need a gaiwan, ideally. Or a small ceramic pot, at the very least. So you can go through multiple infusions more easily."
I can understand the numbers in a twenty-billion-dollar deal. But, right now, I have no idea what she's saying.
She stares back at me. "You know what… I have an idea, actually."
"Do you?"
"My dad has a set in his hospital room. Ask him to explain it. He'll love that." Her lips curl into the world's tiniest smile. "He'll get so caught up that he won't ask too many questions about why I haven't mentioned you."
"Will he?"
"Ask questions?" The kettle interrupts her. She doesn't wait for a response. She continues as she fills the pot with hot water. "Of course. I see him a few times a week. More if I can."
"Do you tell him about your life?"
"There isn't much to tell."
"No rich men vying for your attention?" I try to say it casually, but I don't get all the way there. I hate the idea of her with someone else. Anyone else.
My brother—
They were always friendly when we were kids. He was a cool, older boy. I always worried about women noticing him.
Jasmine didn't see him as more than a friend. But when he moved to New York, he offered her a job. They worked together for a year. They had every opportunity.
He says nothing happened. He says he had no interest. But he says a lot of things.
I haven't trusted him in a long time.
"Some." Her eyes flit to me. She notices my jealousy. Smiles at it. "Nothing like the harem you've acquired."
"I don't have a harem."
"Just a lot of available women jumping into your bed."
"And you've been celibate all this time?"
She sets the kettle down. Turns her body to face mine. Studies my expression like this is the last hand of poker in a high-stakes tournament. "No."
My blood pumps faster. It's ridiculous. It's been six years. Of course, she's been with someone else. But hearing it on her lips is different.
"There were a few men."
I swallow hard.
"Some I barely remember. One who… well, I'm sure any stories I have pale in comparison to yours." She clears her throat. "Your reputation precedes you."
"Does it?"
"Were you always… curious?" She tries to keep her voice casual, but her body betrays her interest. Her chest heaves with her inhale. Her fingers curl into the tile counter top. Her gaze shifts over my lips, shoulders, hands, cock.
"Not always." My eyes flit over her body. It's already doing something to me, taking in her interest. It's already driving me out of my mind. "It was still new then. I didn't quite realize it."
"Oh." She turns to her tea to hide her blush. "This should be done."