Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"So fucking stubborn," he mutters with a shake of his head as if he knows exactly what I think about him and his insane decision to be seen with me in public. "Get your sexy ass out of the car so I can feed you something more than my cock."
"Fine," I say, shooting him another glare. Before I lose the nerve, I push open the door and hop out onto the sidewalk. A few people seated at tables on the patio glance in my direction. I straighten my dress and hold my breath until they turn back to their food.
Cam climbs out and circles around to me, sliding an arm around my waist.
I jump when he pulls me into his side.
"Relax. No one knows who you are," he whispers in my ear before guiding me toward the front doors of the trendy French restaurant on La Brea Avenue.
"Bonjour, and welcome to Noir," a pretty brunette says as soon as we walk inside, Cam's fingers splayed across my hip. The hostess smiles at us, her gaze lingering on Cam for just a beat before respectfully moving along. "Just two?"
"Yes."
"Would you like to dine inside or out?"
"Kitten?" Cam asks, looking at me.
"Inside, please," I decide quickly.
"Of course." The hostess gathers two menus and slips from behind the booth. "If you'll follow me," she murmurs politely and begins to weave her way through the dining room. The place is packed, diners filling most of the tables available. The smell of fresh baked bread and seafood fills the air, making my mouth water.
Cam stays right beside me as the hostess makes her way toward the back of the dining room and shows us to a booth. It's not exactly private, but this part of the dining room is separated from the larger section by a massive aquarium, leaving those on this side more or less obscured from the other side of the room.
"This is perfect," I say, slipping into the booth.
Cam surprises me by sliding in right beside me.
Our hostess lays the menus on the table. "Your server will be with you shortly. Bon appétit."
"Thank you," Cam murmurs and then lays a hand on my thigh, making me jump again. "Easy, kitten."
"Sorry."
We spend a few minutes looking over a menu together before setting it aside, our choices made.
Cam leans in like he's going to whisper in my ear, but he inhales instead. "You smell like me," he says so only I can hear. "Like I've been all over you."
He has been all over me. I can't count how many times he's slipped inside me in the last twenty-four hours. He's taken me hard and fast in the shower, and then slow and easy against the wall. He's made me sit on his face until I screamed, and then flipped me over and spanked me while fucking me from behind. My body is littered with his marks, and every single one just makes me burn hotter for more.
I can still feel him inside of me, like he's imprinted himself there. Every muscle in my body aches, but I love it.
"I like having you all over me," I whisper back.
"Yeah?" He grins at me, giving me that dimple again.
I nod, blushing.
"So innocent," he murmurs before straightening up to give our waiter his attention.
"Bonjour. Comment allez-vous?" the man asks, glancing between the two of us. He's young, my age or a few years younger. With shaggy hair and blue eyes, he's handsome. His gaze lingers on my face for a moment before roving across my chest, the blue of his irises darkening as if he likes what he sees.
"Bonjour," Cam says, his accent perfect and his expression hard. He splays his hand across my shoulder, making it clear he's with me without being threatening or over-the-top about it. "Nous faisons bien. Et toi?"
Our waiter blinks and then laughs ruefully and holds his hands up. "You got me," he says to Cam. "My knowledge of French ends at 'how are you?'."
Cam nods once, accepting the guy's surrender, and then he turns to me, his gaze softening. "What do you want to eat?" he asks me.
I place my order and then wait for him to do the same.
"I'll get it right out to you," our waiter says and then nods at us before moving along.
"I didn't know you speak French," I say when he's gone.
"Just a little, but I speak Spanish fluently."
"Really?" My eyes widen.
"Sí, senorita," he says and then leans in, pitching his voice low. "Desde que te conocí no hago nada más que pensar en ti. Tú eres la mujer más bella que he visto. No puedo vivir sin ti. Estoy desesperadamente enamorado de ti."
I have no idea what he just said but judging from the way he's looking at me―like I'm the center of his world, his gaze soft and open―he means every word. That look sends butterflies into flight in my stomach.