Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
By the time I’d gotten back to Lavender, she’d stripped off her cover-up and was sunning herself on a lounger. I’d stood in the shady interior of the lounge and remembered the breathless, eager sounds she’d made as I’d swiped my fingers through her arousal. That husky moan as I pinched her slippery clit. That I hadn’t gotten her off was the whole point. I was just repaying her in kind as my fingers slipped from between her legs. I’d brought them to her lips and painted her arousal there. She’d turned in my arms, so angry, but that hadn’t stopped me from kissing the fuck out of her.
“I say when.” Her agreement feathered across my lips.
“Fine by me.”
“And I say where.”
“We both know you would’ve let me fuck you over the bar.”
She’d rolled her eyes as though to signify exactly what she thought about that.
“I’ll sleep in your bed for the duration of our agreement.”
“Marriage,” I’d amended.
“But sex is a one-time deal.”
“One night,” I amended. One fuck wasn’t going to be enough.
“Fine, but that’s it. Consummation over. I’ll sleep in your bed, but you can’t be an arsehole about it.”
I’d frowned, not sure what she meant.
“You can’t…” Something flickered on her face, but it was gone before I could make sense of it. “Pressure me. Say stuff that you think might make me give in.”
Who the fuck has she been sleeping with? More to the point, where do I find them to cut off their balls?
“Fine.” But it’s far from fine.
“And you can’t keep upcasting the money. Making me feel bad about it.”
“Lavender,” I half growled, “who the fuck do you think I am?”
“I wish I knew,” she murmured, then shook herself. “After that, sleep together is all we’ll do.” She’d lifted her chin imperiously.
“Your choice, princess.”
“Yeah, it is. Besides, you don’t have enough money for a second time.”
I smiled. She had no idea.
She’d stepped back then, putting a little distance between us. “Deal?”
“One more thing. Tod.”
Her expression flickered. “What about him?”
“You’ll love him from afar until this year is over.”
“Fine.” She’d straightened her scrap of a dress.
“Done.”
And she will be. Because I’m that asshole.
“Dangerous. Pfft!”
Lavender’s muttering yanks me back to the present, and I watch as she moves on the lounger kind of huffily.
“How dangerous could he be when he’s so obviously getting on in years? I mean, he’s as deaf as a post. I wouldn’t be surprised to find all that hair is a well-glued toupee.”
The corner of my mouth curls. That mouth of hers gives me such a fucking hard-on.
As for old, I am older. Old enough to know better and horny enough not to give a fuck that this was supposed to be a clinical business deal.
With the side benefit of pissing off her brother.
“I heard you,” I say, pushing back my chair. “I’m just not sure where the question came from.” I turn and make my way to the bar, finding a smile tugging at my lips when I find her bouquet in a water-filled glass. The flowers were a last-minute addition, one that cost me serious money. I told myself it was more about soothing Sẽnor Moreno’s fucking scruples, but now I’m not so sure.
What does it matter? I think as I pull open the wine fridge. I needed to get married, and I have. I’ve made my peace with my change of decision. I guess now is as good a time as any to celebrate it.
“I don’t need a body count or anything.”
I pause, the bottle of Dom in the air. Body count? For a moment, I wonder if she’s asking how many women I’ve fucked before my mind turns the question her way. How many men…
I become aware of the grip I have on the bottle.
None of your business, asshole. I should be counting the ways I’m going to fuck her and how much each fuck will cost, not getting annoyed over faceless men.
Today has been like a train jumping the tracks. And that’s one fault I can’t lay at the door of her brother.
“Do you know repeating things is one of the signs of dementia?”
“Dementia?”
“There you go again.” Amusement fills her quiet words.
It might be more the case that she’s determined to make me demented.
“You know, the stuff you say is a little out of the ordinary, princess.” I grab a couple of glasses and make my way out onto the terrace.
“I feel a bit like a princess,” she says, tipping her chin to the sky as though she’s determined to catch the last of the sun’s lowering rays. “I don’t remember the last time I lay around all day, drinking champagne.”
“Don’t forget water,” I say, putting the champagne and glasses down to hand her a fresh bottle of mineral water. The ice bucket on the table is more like a watery pool at this point.