Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Now, he's haunting my elevator too.
"Hey, sweet girl." He smirks, looking me up and down.
"You're supposed to be in your room."
"Missing this show?" His smirk grows. "Not a chance, Éire."
"The doors are supposed to be closed."
"You didn't feel the elevator stop?"
"I was busy." I narrow my eyes when his lips twitch. "You better not be laughing at me, Crue Blake. Not all of us are basically choreographers, you know."
He thrusts his arm out, halting the elevator doors as they start to slide shut. "Basically a choreographer?" One brow rises. "Baby, I hate to break it to you, but I'm not basically anything."
"You worked on My'khail's first tour."
My'khail hit the music scene three years ago and blew it up. Not many know that Crue choreographed most of the tour that put him on the map. I don't think many know that Crue's one of the best dancers around, period. It's just one more piece of the puzzle that is this man.
He eyes me silently for a moment. "You going to dance on the elevator all day, or are you coming with me?"
"I'm coming."
"Not yet," he mutters and then shakes his head as if to dispel a thought. "After you, Éire."
I duck under his arm, grazing his body on my way out of the elevator. My entire system sings. Lord have mercy. He smells like bad decisions. You know, the kind you want to make over and over again.
"You changed," I murmur, a little disappointed the gray sweats are gone. I liked those sweats. It's not even gray sweats season and he's winning all the awards.
"Believe me, it was necessary," he growls, something…hungry in his gaze.
I shiver, not sure what to say to that. Sorry? Yay me? Do dirty, dirty things to me, please? I settle on, "Oh." It seems safest.
He takes my laptop bag from me, hanging the strap over his shoulder.
We stroll down the hall side by side, not speaking for several moments. He keeps looking at me out of the corner of his eye, which makes my stomach turn somersaults.
"You're staring," I finally whisper.
His lips twitch again. "So are you."
"Only because you are."
"You're far more interesting to stare at than this fucking carpet, Ireland."
"Well, it's rude."
"Is it? Then you should definitely stop doing it."
"Can't. I'm very interesting," I say, purposefully missing his point, which makes him laugh.
A second later, he places his hand on the small of my back, steering me down the hallway to the left. The doors are further apart here. Probably because the rooms are bigger.
"You didn't deny being rude."
"I'm not rude," I manage to choke out.
"Neither am I. I'm direct. There's a difference."
"You're also bossy. Funny how that's always left out of the write ups on you."
"I've got friends in high places, Éire." His smirk does things to me it shouldn't. Especially paired with the tattoos crawling up his neck.
"You mean your brother, Cortez?" I ask, genuinely curious. It's not every day you meet someone related to a legitimate billionaire.
"You've done your homework." He draws to a stop in front of a door, pulling a keycard from his back pocket. "I'm impressed."
"I may not look the part, but I am a professional, Crue." I place my hand on his arm, earnest. "I just finished an internship with Apollo Press, and I have well over two million followers on social media. I post about music exclusively."
"Damn, baby," he whistles. "You've been working your ass off, haven't you?"
"I have, but it's worth it."
He meets my gaze, smiling like he's proud of me. My stomach turns another somersault and I get lost in his eyes. I kind of want to stay there, lost. It seems heavenly.
He slowly lifts his hand toward my face. I don't move. I barely breathe. He gently cups my cheek, his palm rough against my skin. "You're going to fucking own me, aren't you, Ireland?"
I don't know where the response comes from. I certainly don't give my mouth permission to speak it. But my lips part anyway.
"Yes," I say, my voice clear and firm. "That's the plan, Crue."
He groans, his mouth crashing down on mine. I gasp as he pulls me up against him, trapping me against the door and his body at the same time. I feel every inch of him pressed against me as his mouth moves over mine, annihilating any defense I had against him…if I ever had one at all.
He kisses me as if he's never tasted anything sweeter than my lips, growling like he's mad about it. But he can't seem to stop coming back for more. He nips and licks, doing things with his tongue that have my entire body aching. I twist my fingers up in his shirt, pulling him closer, moving with him.
I have no idea if I'm doing it right, but he isn't complaining, and his erection is wedged against my lower belly so I'm guessing I don't suck at it.