Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“But I’m just getting started.” I caress my hand along her jaw, and without even realizing she’s doing it, she leans into my touch.
“No, you aren’t,” she argues, but I can hear her wavering.
Moving in closer, I touch my lips to hers. “If you come home with me, I’ll give you your toy back.”
Her eyes, which were falling closed, spring open. “You shouldn’t have taken it in the first place,” she snaps.
“I wanted a way to guarantee that you would use me again.” And, fuck, do I want her to use me again.
“How do you know I was using you?”
My hand slides into her hair, and I lean back, bringing her with me. “Because it’s the same way I’m using you. No strings, right?”
“Fucking my boss. How comical,” she scoffs, but her eyes are on my lips. “Fine. I guess you can take me back to your place.” She rests her hand on my chest as she whispers into my ear, “Maybe you’ll spank me so hard this time that I’ll have trouble sitting.”
I knew she loved it.
“Maybe I’ll get you to crawl to me.”
“It depends…” She pauses, eyeing me. “What am I crawling for?”
“My cock.”
“As long as you crawl for me in return.”
“I don’t crawl for anyone or anything,” I state.
“If you want me, you will crawl.”
I want her.
Badly.
But crawling for a woman doesn’t sound like me.
However…
“Let’s go,” I blurt.
“Your driver left.”
“I already have another waiting,” I tell her as I get to my feet and pull her toward the exit. She follows not just because I have a hold of her, but because she knows what is about to come.
Us.
We’ll both be coming tonight.
TWENTY-FIVE
CRESSIDA
Case Notes
Nicknames should not be allowed. They cause emotional attachment. He knows what he is doing.
As I climb into the car waiting outside, he’s right behind me. When we’re both seated and the door is closed, his hand lands on my upper thigh. He strokes his fingers up and down my skin the whole ride to his building, neither of us saying a word. The car glides to a stop at the curb, and Soren gets out while I hesitate.
“Maybe I should go home,” I say.
“I think not. Get out of the car, Miss Knight.”
“Stop calling me that,” I snap.
He nods and takes a deep breath. “Get out of the car, Hurricane.”
“I have an actual name, you know,” I mumble as I exit the car.
He shuts the door behind me and then clutches my hand yet again. “I know. I prefer not to use it.”
“Why?” I ask, confused.
“Because that’s what everyone else calls you, and I’m not everyone else.” He says it like the answer should be obvious. But it’s not.
We enter the building, and he takes the first elevator, pushing the button for the top floor. Of course, he has a penthouse condo. I shouldn’t have expected any less from him. The elevator ride is quiet, and I feel his eyes glued to me as we go up. When I glance over my shoulder, I note he’s leaning against the back wall, grinning as he stares at my ass.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” he replies, amused, as the elevator opens. He motions for me to exit first, then he leads me to a set of double doors. He unlocks them, then pushes them open, waving me inside.
The first thing I see is the city skyline showcased against the dark sky through large floor-to-ceiling windows. He has two large cream-colored sofas with oversized throw pillows on them, and a wooden table in the middle.
He walks deeper into the condo, and I follow him to a large kitchen. The living room is large and airy, like the kitchen, and it’s all white with some light wooden tones mixed in.
He pulls open the refrigerator, and I see bottles of water, condiments, and a few takeout containers. He grabs a bottle of water, then turns and hands it to me.
“I didn’t come here for water,” I say, furrowing my brow.
“Yes, but you need to stay hydrated.”
I can’t help but chuckle. Of course, Soren would say that. I take the bottle but don’t open it, watching as he removes his jacket and tosses it over the back of a stool. He then kicks off his brown leather boots and reaches for the hem of his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Getting undressed. What does it look like?” His tone says that should be obvious.
“I never agreed to have sex with you.” An impish grin curls my lips.
He raises an unimpressed brow and continues removing his shirt. Then he’s stalking toward me, and his hand slides around my hips to my ass, where he squeezes the plump flesh. “We don’t have to have sex, but we can do other things,” he says.
Pushing his hand away and taking a step back, I put some distance between us. “I guess you’re right. We can do other things.”