Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“What?”
“You heard me.” I met her eyes and leaned toward her slightly. “You give me fifteen minutes in the backseat of my car, and I will give you a hand-crafted, responsibly farmed, artisanal orgasm that will make you forget all your troubles.”
Cocky as fuck, aren’t I?
But listen, I’m not saying I’m amazing at everything. There are some things I’m not good at. Relationships. Cooking. Observing the speed limit. And I don’t admit this to many people, but I’m fucking terrified of heights, so don’t ask me to go skydiving or bungee jumping or even skiing.
Chairlifts, man. Fuck those hanging death traps.
But delivering an orgasm? That was about communication, patience, and strategic navigation of female anatomy—three things I happen to excel at.
She laughed nervously. “Hand-crafted, huh?”
“Well . . .” I leaned in closer. Spoke lower. “My tongue might get involved too. If that’s okay with you.”
A small gasp. Her lush mouth stayed open, and the surprise in her light brown eyes turned to curiosity. And then to desire. I watched it happen, willing myself to stay quiet, to let her be the one to decide. If this was going to work, she had to trust me.
Then a flicker of doubt crossed her face, and I prepared myself for the rejection. Which would be fine, I wasn’t going to pressure her. I was just—
“Okay.”
My dick sprang to life inside my pants. “Huh?”
“Okay.” Deep red roses bloomed in her cheeks. She slid off her stool and stood between my knees, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes.”
Now my jaw dropped.
Could this be real?
The joke in my family has always been that I can talk anyone into anything and make it seem like their idea in the first place. It’s what makes me good at my job brokering multi-million-dollar real estate deals—I understand the art of persuasion, which isn’t about coercion, manipulation, or intimidation.
But I hadn’t expected her to seriously entertain my offer.
Honestly, I sort of felt like this could be a setup, and any minute now, a hidden cameraman was going to pop out and a cackling reality show host was going to inform me I’d been had. Would it be my punishment for coming back to town to persuade an old lady to sell her family’s historic ski resort?
No, fuck that. I was doing that old lady a favor, and everyone else in her family too. Times had changed. The resort was a cadaver. And they’d walk away with millions.
I realized I’d been paralyzed with shock when Lexi backed away. “Maybe I shouldn’t,” she said, clearly flustered. “This is not like me at all, and I—”
I locked a forearm around her waist and pulled her in close. Buried my face in her hair and spoke low in her ear. “If you walk out of here with me right now, I will do everything in my power to give you the best fifteen minutes you’ve ever had—or ever will have.”
“Really?” Her voice was breathless.
I locked my arm around her so tight her back bowed. “I will make you come so hard you see stars. As many times as you let me.”
“Why do I believe you?” she asked, her voice bewildered.
I grinned. “It’s a gift.”
I sent the bartender a frantic signal that I needed to cash out, signed the tab with a hasty scribble, and grabbed Lexi by the wrist. Pulling her through the crowd, I glanced at the table where my brothers were sitting with their dates but decided they did not need to be informed of my whereabouts for the next fifteen minutes.
Speaking of which, I did some quick calculations in my mind as we moved for the back exit.
Nine hundred seconds.
That’s all I had to give this woman the finish that had been eluding her for half a year. Not gonna lie, a sliver of self-doubt was threatening to penetrate my confidence. My skills had never let me down before, but I had a sudden vision of Icarus flying too close to the sun. A sweat broke out on my back.
No. This was no time for uncertainty. The stakes were high, but I knew what I was doing. I was a little out of practice, since I’d been in a bit of a dry spell lately, but once I got going, I had this.
Throwing the bar’s door open with my shoulder, we burst outside into the warm, humid late summer air. Neither of us spoke as I pulled her in the direction of my car—rented, since I’d flown in from Boston earlier in the day. Lexi had long legs, but not as lengthy as mine, and she took two quick steps for every one of my determined strides. It was a good thing she wasn’t in heels.
When we reached the large black SUV, I looked around. The gravel lot wasn’t well-lit, we were parked completely in the shadows, and I didn’t see anyone lurking, but I knew that in order for this to work, Lexi needed to feel completely comfortable. I turned to her. “Do you want me to move the car somewhere less visible?”