Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Thanks,” she says, her voice so shy and soft that I barely hear her over the music. Her eyes drop to the sticky floor. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“He was harassing you,” I reply smoothly. “I absolutely did have to do that.”
I decide not to tell her that I simply wanted to do it. Because he was a nuisance, and I want to talk to her. And he was making her uncomfortable.
Over the years, I’ve found that women like to feel protected.
Her cautious eyes lift to meet mine, and I’m momentarily stunned at their clear, aquamarine hue.
“Thank you,” she says again, and this time, she doesn’t glance away.
It takes all of my willpower to stop myself from closing the short distance between us so that she’ll tip her head back and offer those rosebud lips to me.
I’m not a single-minded fool like the idiot who invaded her personal space.
I’m a careful monster, the perfect predator.
And I always capture my prey.
Judging by the way her lovely eyes are studying my face, I already have her interest. Women have always found me attractive, so this part is easy enough.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I say smoothly. “But you can let me buy you a drink.”
Her delicately arched brows draw together. “You want to buy me a drink?”
I allow an indulgent smile to tilt my lips, even though I’m slightly irked that she seems the tiniest bit hesitant to accept. “I do.”
She presses those pretty lips together, considering me for a second. Her clear-eyed gaze pins me with discomfiting intensity, and I find myself looking to the bartender to catch his attention.
I choose to ignore the odd moment.
When the bartender meets my eye, I place our order. “Another whiskey and a cosmopolitan.”
The whiskey here is cheap, but I can’t stomach the thought of masking the acrid flavor with a soft drink. My lovely companion, on the other hand, has sipped two pink cocktails in the last hour. It’s not difficult to guess that she wants something sugary.
“Oh,” she says. “I was drinking the slushies.” She gestures at the machine filled with an icy pink drink at the back of the bar. There’s a sign advertising two for ten dollars. “I can pay for mine.”
I suppress a frown at her resistance. Instead, I arrange my features into my most charming smile.
The cosmopolitan appears on the bar before me. “I’m not going to drink this. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.”
Proving my point, I take a sip of my whiskey, refusing to touch the sickly-sweet concoction.
She eyes me warily, and I choose to wait her out, quirking an expectant eyebrow.
“Okay.” She sighs and reaches for the drink. “Thank you.”
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Abigail. But everyone calls me Abby.”
I don’t want to be everyone to this woman. I want her to feel special. Desired.
She’s strangely hesitant to succumb to my charms. My smile sharpens slightly. It’s been a long time since I’ve been presented with a proper challenge.
“I’m Dane. Enjoy your drink, Abigail,” I reply, savoring the flavor of her name on my tongue.
She lifts the frosted glass and takes a sip, as though she’s complying without fully thinking through her actions.
Submissive.
Perfect.
As soon as she tastes the cocktail, her remarkable eyes practically roll back in bliss. They remain closed for a second, as though she’s experiencing ecstasy at the sugar hit.
Hunger tightens my gut. She’s definitely shy, but she’s completely guileless. Her rapturous expression holds nothing back.
Her broad grin hits me square in the chest.
“This is so good.”
Fuck, the way she lingers over the words makes it sound like she could orgasm from her sensory response to nothing more than a sweet drink.
She’ll sound beautiful when she screams my name in bed.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say, half a heartbeat later than I should.
Something about this woman challenges my usual composure. I can’t predict her actions, and she doesn’t easily fall into my seductive games.
She almost refused my offer to buy her a drink, but then she submitted when I used a firmer tone with her.
I’m intrigued.
She’s beautiful, but that’s not what attracts me to her. As a plastic surgeon, I see beautiful women every day, and they come to me to make them even more physically perfect.
With her enchanting freckle and understated but lovely lips, Abigail isn’t perfect.
But she might just be the most enticing woman I’ve ever met, and I’ve only spoken to her for a few minutes.
“Where are you from?” she asks. “I like your accent.”
My chest warms at the first admission of her attraction to me, and my smile tilts into a smirk. Her gaze fixes on my mouth.
She’s just as intrigued as I am.
“England,” I reply. “But I’ve lived in the States for a while now. Are you from Charleston? I’m new here.”
I like her accent too. There’s a soft Southern drawl that makes her words almost breathy, but it’s subtle enough to not be a distraction. I want to hear her panting and begging in my bed in that sultry voice.