Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“Before more people come, would you like me to give you a tour?”
My heart hammers hard behind my breastbone. This is exactly what I need. A tour to determine the lay of the land. This is perfect.
I take another sip before placing my glass on the bar.
“Lead the way.”
He takes my hand in his and then links our fingers together. It’s intimate, and I have to will myself to stop the butterflies swarming in my stomach.
Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have had the champagne because the farther I walk with him and the longer he touches me, the harder I find it to keep my body from shaking with nerves.
I suck in a slight breath, praying he doesn’t notice, but if he does, at least he’s courteous enough not to mention it.
One point for the villain.
I almost chuckle at my endless mental commentary, but I don’t. I can’t fuck this up. As we walk together, he points at the galley. The kitchen. The bar. We take another step, and he smiles. I want to ask why, but he just walks up the stairs.
“This way. It’s not too many.”
I follow him up. There’s a parlor, and at the end of the room is another door.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Just my office,” he says as he leads me back toward the stairs.
“You aren’t going to show me?”
“Do you want to see my office?”
He raises a brow, and I realize I’m about to step into a problem if I keep this up, so instead, I lean in toward him.
“Not really.”
“Then what is it you want?”
I bite my lip and meet his gaze. He steps forward, and I step back, hitting the wall. He’s so close I can feel the fabric of his shirt grazing my exposed skin.
His hand drops from mine and trails up my arm and across my collarbone.
I lean in closer, and now, his mouth is almost touching mine. I can smell the earthy hints of scotch on his lips.
“You want me to kiss you,” he states, his warm breath tickling my flesh.
His fingers cradle my face, and when he pulls back, I get lost in his gaze.
It feels like I’m on fire, ablaze with a desire I need to extinguish. But will one kiss change anything?
I don’t have time to think about it before his lips find mine. His mouth opens, asking me to let him in.
I do. I let him kiss me.
Allowing our tongues to dance to a seductive rhythm.
Becoming lost in the sensation.
Lost to this man.
He tastes like everything I knew he would.
Sins and lies.
His tongue runs across my bottom lip. Mouth hungry, his lips leaving a searing kiss. It’s as if he wants to give me everything. Demand everything.
But as soon as the kiss starts, he pulls back, his vibrating phone breaking through the haze of lust between us.
He scoffs at the disturbance, pulling out his phone and reading the message.
Then he shakes his head. He steps back, and I miss his warmth, but at the same time, relief hits me like a ton of bricks. Five minutes more and I don’t know what I would have done. By the way I was just kissing him, I probably would have abandoned the mission like a love-sick teenager.
Thankfully, that doesn’t happen because I’d never forgive myself if my dad lost everything.
“Everything okay?” I whisper, still not one hundred percent over the kiss.
“I have to go back down.”
This is my shot. I’m a mere two feet from his office, so maybe I can sneak in without him being the wiser.
“Where’s the little ladies' room? This lipstick is not going to fix itself.” I make myself sound coy and even blush when he looks at my lips. “Next to the office. You can find your way down?”
“Yes.”
He pulls me closer, sealing his lips to mine one more time. My legs are like putty as he worships my mouth and then pushes away.
“What was that?”
“I figure you won’t let me do that later.” I cock my head at his statement. “After you fix your lipstick,” he clarifies.
“True.”
“See you downstairs.”
As soon as he heads down the stairs, I jet off to the office.
The door is locked, which I expected. It’s a good thing I can pick a lock—another little thing I picked up in boarding school. I’m sure my father would love to know what his money paid for. Sneaking around and not getting caught.
I lift my hand and grab the extra bobby pin in my hair. It’s now or never.
The door creaks open, and I step inside. I close it behind me and make my way toward the desk, pin still in hand. Something tells me I’ll have more locks to pick.
I begin to search the desk by opening each drawer. I need to be quick so he won’t look for me, but I also need to be thorough.