Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
She didn’t deny it. She always told it like it was, sugar coating nothing to protect his ego.
“After months of buckling down and dating women who appear perfect on paper, I lost more sleep over the one woman who fits none of my criteria.”
She hated how her heart fluttered at the vision of him losing sleep over her. She’d never even seen his bedroom, but the thought of him sitting up at night, thinking of her under some high-thread-count linen sheets while she slept soundly…it did something to her.
“I think it’s time we stop fighting the inevitable, Joce. Sometimes, it’s not a numbers game, and you have to go with your gut and trust your instincts above all else.”
He thought the solution was to run at this full speed and simply power through, but her instincts warned that he was being short-sighted. There would come a time when he realized he’d made the wrong choice. And then the fallout would come. The awkwardness around the others. The resentment. It would poison their friend group until one of them eventually pulled back.
She loved her home, loved her community. The townspeople were all she had. But he had his brothers. Real family. His life just seemed so much more anchored in this place than hers, and if he wanted to, he could easily push her out.
Then, he’d eventually move on and meet a real partner that suited his needs. Sooner or later he’d bring her around to birthdays, christenings, holidays…
How would she stomach that?
The food had been delivered, and they barely touched their plates. Every time the waitress had come by to check on them, Soren had silently signaled her away. Her glass was empty, and her dinner was cold, but she didn’t want a refill of either.
“I should go. Cordelia’s at home and it’s past her dinner time.”
“Come to my place.”
She stilled. Soren had never once invited her to his private home. Even as friends, she’d never stepped inside his inner sanctum.
“I can’t. Cordelia needs—”
“Bring her. King’s there. They can play.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“One night, Joce. Give me one night to convince you before you completely shut me down. That’s all I ask.”
It wasn’t a small request. It was a genie wish for a million more wishes.
At least when he came to her house, she decided when to let him in and could disappear when she wanted him to leave. Now, he was aiming for a home-court advantage.
She looked around the bar, but no one was staring.
“They don’t care,” he whispered, mouth close to her ear. “Come home with me.”
Her breath caught when he nuzzled the curve of her jaw, playfully licking at her pulse as it leapt and fluttered. The patrons around the bar might not be openly staring, but his closeness was being clocked. Tomorrow, there would be gossip.
The worst part wasn’t imagining what they’d say. It was her disappointment that she cared how they might judge her. Soren was a catch, a billionaire CEO and Hideaway’s most eligible bachelor. She was an over-caffeinated Viking smut author that didn’t come with a filter. She prided herself on having a zero-fucks-to-give attitude, but apparently, when it came to her personal life shifting into public view, she wasn’t as brave as she thought.
“One night, Joce. Don’t be a scaredy-cat. What have you got to lose?”
The moment he turned it into a dare, he tapped into her cutthroat competitive nature. “Fine. One night.”
His hand glided up her denim-covered thigh, as his warm breath fanned over her cheek. “Let’s go.” He threw several crisp bills on the table and took her hand.
Heat burned through her as he led her out of the bar like a Viking drags a concubine after a hard-won victory. In that moment, he was so indisputably male, claiming his spoils of war. And she was about to get pillaged and plundered until dawn.
“Soren, wait.” She tugged her hand free when she caught people staring. It was too much. “Are you trying to make a scene on purpose?”
He paused, actually giving the question some thought. “Maybe I am.”
“Well…don’t.”
He closed the distance, pressing his front firmly against hers as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear. He was pure testosterone encased in elegance. Masculine determination that made her inner feminist rage because her body was not immune. Her heart raced as she recognized the dangerous promise in his eyes.
While she pleaded for discretion, he overwhelmed her senses with potent intent. He didn’t plan to simply show her a glimpse of how he hoped things could be. He intended to ruin her defenses, breaking down every wall until she had no excuses left.
“Soren, please,” she begged so quietly he shouldn’t have heard her plea for mercy, but he read it in her eyes.
“Hey.” The calming way he pushed through her panic only alarmed her more. He shouldn’t be able to do that.