Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
It’s... a lot.
And if I’m being honest, it’s left me more flustered than informed.
The more I watch, the more it feels like I’m peering into a world I don’t belong to - a world where people like Santi exist, larger than life and completely unattainable.
So. I’m still no closer to knowing what this man wants from me. I do know that he has over one million instagram followers though, so there’s that.
I set down the lipstick tube, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are a little pinker than usual, and I tell myself it’s from the changing climate, not the mental image of Santi covered in mud and flashing that infuriatingly charming grin at the camera.
Focus, Olivia.
Taking a deep breath, I smooth out the front of my dress and grab my bag. Whatever tonight brings, I need to stay grounded.
After all, I barely know this man.
A sharp honk from outside jolts me from my thoughts, and I instinctively know it’s him. My heart picks up its pace as I grab my handbag, hurriedly tossing in my lipstick, gloss, and phone before heading downstairs.
I am greeted by the glorious sight of Santi leaning casually against his sleek black sports car. The car might be a work of art in its own right, but it’s honestly nothing in comparison to the gorgeous man beside it.
His short-sleeve, white shirt is crisp and perfectly pressed, revealing those strong, tanned forearms that look like they belong to someone who spends as much time working out as they do playing rugby. They’re thick, tanned and scattered with dark hairs, and honestly, I’m here for it.
The top three buttons of his shirt are undone in a way that I’m learning he favours, teasing just enough to show a glimpse of his golden skin and the faint outline of his collarbone. His dark jeans hug his lean, athletic frame, fitting him so perfectly it’s hard not to wonder if they were tailored just for him.
The way he stands is effortlessly confident, with his weight shifted slightly to one side, arms loosely crossed. His long dark hair is styled just enough to look managed but not overly fussy, and the shadow of scruff on his jawline adds a rugged edge to his otherwise polished appearance.
Then there are his eyes - my most favourite feature of his. Those piercing green eyes meet mine the second I step outside, practically glowing in the early evening light. They pull me in as they lock onto mine, a flicker of something playful and warm dancing in their depths.
“You look amazing,” he says, his voice smooth and low, wrapping around me like a warm breeze.
He pushes off the car and takes a step forward, the slight swagger in his stride so natural it makes my pulse quicken. As he reaches me, he leans down and places a kiss on each of my cheeks, the brush of his lips against my skin sending a shiver down my spine.
At least I was somewhat expecting it this time, so his proximity doesn’t catch me off guard.
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
His cologne - that rich, woodsy scent with just a hint of spice - lingers in the air between us, intoxicating and utterly him. I’m tempted to ask him the name of it so that I never forget, but I figure it’s too weird of a question when we barely know one another.
He straightens and steps back, his gaze sweeping over me with an unmistakable sense of appreciation.
“You ready?” he asks, his lips curving into that familiar smile that’s both infuriatingly cocky and disarmingly sincere.
Before I can respond, he walks me around the car, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. The gesture is subtle but steady, grounding me as much as it’s sending my heart into overdrive.
He opens the passenger door with an easy motion, gesturing for me to get in. The interior of the car is just as luxurious as the exterior; with plush leather seats that feel buttery soft under my fingertips and the faint, clean scent of something expensive.
I slide into the seat, the cool leather against my skin a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from him.
“Thank you,” I say again, glancing up at him as he closes the door gently behind me.
He rounds the front of the car, his movements fluid and confident, and when he slides into the driver’s seat, he flashes me another grin that makes my stomach flip.
“This is - ah. Quite the ride,” I comment awkwardly.
“It gets the job done.”
The drive through the city is serene, its charm only heightened by the golden hour. The streets are alive with the buzz of people out for the evening, and I feel myself relaxing further with each second that passes.
“You know, I never gave you my address,” I say. “Should I be worried, stalker?”