Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
This is it. Get yourself together.
Slowly, I walk to the door and open it, revealing Dawson standing there like a statue. He fills the entire frame with his hulking body, a physique that any man would kill for.
He’s wearing a pair of khaki pants and a worn Henley that is nearly bursting at the neck from the bulging enormity of his chest muscles.
I force my eyes to lock on his, keeping them from exploring every inch of him like my instincts are telling me. But it’s not possible. My gaze drifts down his biceps, tracing the lines of his veins as they move down to his thick forearms, and then finally to his hands…
God, those hands…
I want them on me. Threaded through my hair, bending my neck back as he kisses me all over. I want him to spank me. Grab my hips and show me who’s boss.
But right now, I just have to keep it together. And as he looks at me like I’m the only girl in the world, I feel myself starting to melt.
“Good girl,” he says simply, the hint of a smile on his lips.
My knees almost give out. I pretend like I have to grab my phone charger just so I can lean against the counter until my head stops spinning.
Yes. Talk to me like that. More…
My vision is a blur as he leads me out of my apartment to his truck. I barely even know what’s happening. All I can focus on is the feeling of his hand on my skin as he guides me—the rough calluses of a working man.
He’s strong but is a total gentleman as he helps me into my seat and drives us to the restaurant, which happens to be Vincenzo’s, the nicest place in town.
When we walk in, he casually gives the doorman a hundred, and we’re seated immediately. Instead of taking the chair opposite me, he slides onto the booth beside me, getting so close I can feel his warmth. Smell his scent. I even feel his muscular thigh press against mine.
Here, sitting next to him in the dimly lit booth, I already feel like I belong to him. The rest of the world simply does not exist. It’s just the two of us.
He orders for both of us: a steak for him and some kind of chicken pasta dish that I can’t even pronounce but is absolutely delicious for me. My mouth is watering as I take my first bite.
But then again, it’s been watering since he first showed up at my apartment…
“How’s your dinner?” he asks. It’s strange how polite he can be. I guess I thought he’d be…rougher.
“Wonderful,” I reply, hiding my mouth with my hand as I chew. “Thank you.”
“What do you do for a living, Evie?”
“I’m a graphic design artist,” I reply. “Basically any kind of digital art someone might need—logos, app design, text, photos. All kinds of stuff.”
He nods, the intensity of his eyes bearing down on me. He actually seems interested, but with him this close, I can barely concentrate.
“So you’re talented.” He nods. My cheeks flush, and I’m just about to reply when I feel his hand on my knee. No, not his hand. Just his thumb, moving in soft, slow circles in a way that causes my entire body to vibrate.
Poetic.
My lips are trembling as I search for a response. But thankfully, our waiter arrives and asks us if we’d like dessert.
“No,” I blurt out. “We’re fine. Just the check, please!”
Ugh, did I just do that? End the date awkwardly in front of Dawson and our waiter?
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Every instinct I have is telling me to hurl myself into this man’s arms. But at the same time, I don’t know men! I have no idea what to do. All I can see is me making a fool out of myself.
Even as I stand up and head for the door, I can see Dawson smiling at me out of the corner of my eye. Outside, I pretend like I’m checking my phone while he pulls the truck up. Now I just have to make sure I don’t do something stupid on the way home.
The drive back to my apartment feels like an eternity. My whole body is buzzing. I feel like a tiny little planet in orbit around Dawson’s massive body. When he finally pulls up at my place, I’m frozen. I want to get out of the truck and race inside, but I also want to stay.
“You did so good tonight, Evie,” he tells me. I look up at him, feeling his praise like a physical touch. I want more. More.
But all I can do is shove the door open and run for the hills. I can’t even look back. I gasp for breath as I shut the door behind me. Only once I hear his truck pull away do I start to get a grip on things.