Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
As if reading my thoughts, he groans into my neck. “I can’t get enough of you.” He nips, and then I feel his hands sliding under the material of my skirt.
I pant into his neck. “We can’t.”
“Sure, we can.” And then his finger is inside me. I let out a sound, but it is cut off by his mouth as he swallows my moans.
His fingers thrust inside me, and I can feel myself coming apart.
I’m about to fall over the edge when I hear a voice in the background. Cain halts, and I squirm against him, begging him to take me over the edge.
I pull my head out from his neck and implore with my eyes that he continues.
He doesn’t, though. Instead, he grins, removes his fingers, and licks them clean.
I want to scream and shout, but I don’t. I push down the need growing inside me as Cain steps away from me and goes to talk to the curator. It takes a few minutes for me to pull myself out of the haze.
Inhaling and then exhaling, I right myself.
And when I’m no longer hot and bothered and feel more normal, I step out from the alcove and join them where they are standing in front of the painting.
They must’ve reached some sort of arrangement because they’re exchanging business cards, and Cain is taking my hand and leading me out, back into the New York City streets.
“Where to now?” he asks.
“Let’s see where our feet take us,” I speak. “When I first moved to the city, it was one of my favorite things to do. On a Sunday afternoon in the middle of the summer, I would walk and walk and walk with no direction and see where it took me.”
“Then that is exactly what we should do.” We start our path with no destination, and as we walk, we hold hands and speak of nothing important.
I tell him about my coworkers, and he listens. I talk about Mara and how we met that first day when I started to work at the magazine. How we were instant friends. And how she’s the only person I can complain to about how much I hate my job.
I expect Cain to say something, maybe object, because obviously, his passion is architecture, but he doesn’t. He just listens, and it’s refreshing. As someone who works in the field of journalism, I feel all I do is listen, so it’s nice to be the one speaking for once.
Soon, we are by Madison Square Park. Across from us, I can see the familiar hamburger stand, and my mouth waters. Cain is looking at me, and then he smiles softly. “Someone is hungry.”
“Aren’t you?”
His lips tip up into a wicked smirk. “Not for burgers.”
“And what, pray tell, are you hungry for?” I ask in a coy manner, knowing full well what his answer will be.
He pulls me closer, nuzzling his mouth in my neck. “You. I’m hungry for you.” His breath tickles my skin, and goose bumps break out.
It takes every ounce of strength inside me not to tell him just to take me home and finish what he started at the gallery. My stomach growls, and I’m happy I’ve made the right decision to track forward on my quest for a greasy burger and fries.
It only takes us a few minutes, and we find a small table. Once we have the food, I take a bite of my burger, and it’s delicious, the taste bursting in my mouth. I let out a groan.
“If you keep making that sound, I won’t let you finish.”
“Let? And just how will you stop me, Mr. Archer?”
I know I’m playing with the beast. I’m toying with him, and I shouldn’t aggravate him. Because I can tell he’s only moments away from throwing me down and ravishing me on this table in front of guests.
Maybe that’s what he likes. Maybe he likes the audience. I’m about to speak when I notice something. Cain’s flirtatious grin is gone.
He looks like he’s lost in thought, and I wonder what he’s thinking about. There is definitely a noticeable shift in him.
His shoulders are tight now. The bone in his jaw is rigid. But the way his eyes are narrowed has me wondering what happened.
“Are you okay?”
That’s when I notice that he’s not looking at me. He’s looking above my shoulder.
I turn to follow his line of sight when I see her.
The photographer. The lady from the showing. The woman from The Elysian.
Why is she here? Is she following him? Does she mean something to him?
Maybe she’s an ex and obsessed with him for some reason.
Maybe he broke her heart, and she can’t get over him.
Did he hurt her?
My mind is racing. I want to ask him, so I turn away from the woman and look at Cain to do just that, but when our gazes lock, he looks different.