Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I was ninety-nine percent sure of it.
Picking up my whiskey, I took a couple swallows to numb the urge.
“So,” she said, her smile seductive. “Can I ask the name of the gallant stranger who rescued me tonight?”
“Zach.”
“Nice to meet you, Zach.” She held out her hand. “I’m Millie.”
I took her much smaller hand in mine—it was soft and pale and smooth. Touching her shot arrows of lust straight to my dick, which had felt like a rocket ready for launch since the moment I locked eyes with her across the bar. I didn’t hold her hand a second longer than necessary, immediately picking up my drink again.
“Are you in town on business?” she asked.
“Yes.”
After an awkward pause, she laughed. “Are you going to tell me what you do when you’re not saving women from creepers in bars?”
“I’m in private security.”
“You’re a bodyguard?”
“Sometimes.”
“What about the other times?”
I cocked a brow and gave her a sideways glance. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m curious about you.” She took a sip of her drink, and I imagined those red lips rimming something other than her glass.
“I don’t like talking about myself.”
“Oh. Okay. I can respect that,” she said. But I’d disappointed her, I could tell.
We sat in silence for another minute or so, and I was beginning to regret agreeing to one more drink. Every second that ticked by, I noticed something else about her that drove me wild. The curve of her shoulder. The long black lashes. The smell of her perfume. She wasn’t even showing off much cleavage, but the silhouette of her breasts in that clingy dress had my mouth watering. I could practically feel the shape of them in my hands, her nipples under my tongue.
What the fuck was the matter with me? Wasn’t I too old for this?
Granted, the shitty end of my shitty marriage had me in a pretty long dry spell, but yesterday I hadn’t even cared. It was like I’d forgotten what it was like to have such a powerful attraction to someone. To feel desire burning through me. Lately I’d been feeling like maybe those days were over—but sitting here next to her made me feel seventeen again.
“Okay, one more question,” she blurted, holding her hands up. “And then I promise I’ll leave you alone.”
“Shoot.”
“What made you come over and save me from that guy?”
A better question was why I’d waited as long as I had. I’d seen the way he was eyeing her, and my protective instincts had kicked in. I knew it was only a matter of time before he made his move. “I know his type.”
“But you don’t know my type.” Her voice was teasing. “What if jackasses in blue blazers are my thing?”
“Are they?”
“No.” She laughed and took another drink. “I was very happy when you grabbed my wrist.” A pause. “For many reasons.”
I guzzled some more whiskey.
“I mean, I’d noticed you sitting by yourself over there and . . . I don’t know. You intrigued me.”
That made me smile. “Yeah?”
“Yes. I couldn’t stop staring.”
“I noticed.”
She laughed again, covering her pink cheeks with her hands. “Was it really that obvious?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I’m someone who’s always aware of what people around me are doing.”
She picked up her drink and swirled what was left of her vodka in the glass. “That probably makes you really good at your job.”
“Yes.”
She sighed. “I’m good at my job too. But you know what?”
“What?”
She finished the martini and set the glass down on the bar. “I don’t want to talk about my job tonight.”
“Okay.”
“And we don’t have to talk about your job either.”
“Works for me.”
“But we have to talk about something.”
“We do?”
“Yes. I promised my sister I would get out of my comfort zone tonight and talk—no, flirt—with a handsome, mysterious stranger. Guess what?” She gave me an adorably tipsy smile and pointed at my shoulder. “That’s you.”
A chuckle rumbled in my chest. “Lucky me.”
“So how am I doing so far?”
“Oh, I’d say nine out of ten.”
“Nine out of ten!” She shrank back, as if she was offended. “What do I have to do to get the last point?”
Everything that came to mind was unspeakable. Sit on my face. Put your hand in my pants. Let me rub the tip of my cock on that little dimple that appears in your cheek when you smile.
Tossing back the rest of my drink, I plunked the glass onto the bar. “Nothing. I’ll give it to you free—ten out of ten.”
“I don’t want your pity point, Zach. Tell me what you were thinking.”
I rotated my empty glass with one hand, sneaking a sideways look at her. “How old are you?”
“Why? Are your thoughts age-restricted?”
“They should be.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m thirty-two. How old are you?”
“Older.”
“Older like ninety?”
“Older like forty-seven.”
Her eyes raked me over head to foot. “Wow. You’re in great shape,” she said. “You don’t even have suspenders holding up your pants. I mean, you could be wearing sock garters, but who can tell? Maybe I should check your wallet for an AARP card.”