Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
She squares her shoulders, defiantly. “No. It’s just impressive.”
“Right. Sure,” I say, doubtful. “That’s all it is.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You can’t handle the fact that I have a hidden appreciation for the extraordinary.”
“Next thing you know, you’ll be running away to join the circus.”
“Don’t tempt me. I might just leave you and the Max makeover behind.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You wouldn’t. You like spending time with me too much.”
She scoffs. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“Don’t have to. It’s just a fact.”
With a beleaguered sigh, she looks away from the juggler, her brown eyes locking with mine. “Fine. I’ll take the bait. Why is it a fact?”
“Because you, sunshine, love torture.”
“Is this torture, Max? Is this really sweet torture?” she asks, leaning closer.
Her perfume swirls around me, seductive, alluring. A promise of sultry nights, and long, slow kisses that should never end. And I have the answer. Yes, this is torture. I’m entirely distracted by her scent. And I can’t resist stealing a hit. I shift toward her, catching another hit of it as I whisper in a gravelly voice, “The sweetest.”
She swallows, then blinks, like she’s been knocked off-kilter. “Good,” she says, but she sounds a little wobbly.
Like how I feel as my pulse kicks faster just from being near this woman. This attraction is getting to be a serious workplace hazard.
I’ve got to get a handle on this lust. I tear my gaze from her, forcing my focus on the juggler as he flips the fiery batons higher and higher still.
Everly stares hard at the ring too, like she’s also resetting her focus. Interesting.
At some point, though, she relaxes, watching the juggler again with avid eyes, then delighted ones. Everly’s enrapt. It’s kind of endearing, her joy in the show. That’s so not what I expected from this tough, fiery, fierce goddess of PR. But then again, Everly finds the bright side in everything—even circuses. I tip my chin toward her, catching her eye as I ask, “Do you have a thing for jugglers?”
“Do you have a thing for talking during a show?”
“Yes,” I say, because she smells too fucking good. I can’t focus on anything but her. With barely any space on these bleachers, I’m entirely too close to her on this too-small bench with too-little room, while I’m stuck inhaling her scent that’s driving me wild. I blame the perfume for what comes out of my mouth next. “Admit it—you’ve been secretly dying to take me out.”
She turns to me, shooting me a you didn’t just say that stare. But it’s not like she’s mad. More like she’s curious as hell. “What does that mean?”
“That maybe this was part of your plan all along,” I say, as nonchalant as I can be. “A date at the circus.”
She rolls her eyes. “Max, we’re here for a picture for your social feed. Step one, remember?”
“And yet I don’t see you taking one,” I say, busting her on a technicality, since I can’t stop giving her a hard time.
Her eyes widen, like she’s just realized that she’d forgotten our raison d’être. “I know that. I have a plan,” she says, defensively.
“Sure you do,” I tease.
“I do,” she insists quietly, but she’s already busy snagging her phone from her purse in a rush, like she wants to prove a point. She lifts it and snaps a quick shot of me. Then, the juggler. But she seems…shaky.
I smirk. Yup. She was having fun, despite herself. She was having such a good time she forgot her mission. Because I, Max Lambert, might be an unapproachable jerk but I’m also a damn good time. I inch closer once more, this time setting a hand on her shoulder. Her breath hitches, but she tries to hide it with a quick inhale.
“I won’t tell a soul you’re loving this,” I say, low and smoky in her ear.
She rolls her lips together, like she’s holding in words she wants to fling at me, words dipped in her brand of sexy sarcasm. Words meant to dress me down, that I can’t seem to resist eliciting from her.
“It’ll be our secret,” I press on, even lower, even raspier.
She’s stoic, her gaze focused on the act on stage doing…I don’t even know what. I don’t even care. I can’t stop teasing her. “It’ll be just between us,” I add.
Briefly, she closes her eyes. My attention snags on her bare forearms. Oh. Oh. Goosebumps are rising on her pale skin, a tell-tale sign she’s aroused. My head swims with this new knowledge. My mind short-circuits. Is Everly Rosewood turned on from the things I whispered in her ear at the circus? I raise my face slowly, getting a glimpse of her neck, her throat, the exposed skin at the top of her dark blue blouse.
It’s flushed.
She opens her eyes, and I sit back, too pleased, too fucking satisfied. I cross my arms, enjoying…everything.