Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
I don't like the accusation in his tone. If he wanted to be possessive, he shouldn't have made me come and then taken off. "Exactly like this. Why?"
He strides closer, and my pulse kicks up. His eyes are burning now, like he’s barely holding himself together. “Laurie,” he says, his voice low, “you can’t just walk out dressed like that without telling me where you’re going."
“And why not?” I challenge, planting a hand on my hip. “Last I checked, you’re not my keeper.”
“I'm supposed to be keeping you safe."
I cross my arms, feigning boredom. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Adam, but I don’t need a babysitter.”
For a moment, he just stares at me, the air between us like a live wire. Then he steps even closer, his height and presence towering over me. “Where are you going?” he asks again, his voice quieter this time but no less firm.
This new side of him is throwing me off in all the worst ways. It should be purely annoying, but I find that I want him to be possessive. I want him to take care of me, but I can't let him know that. At least not until he admits that he wants this to be more than just sex.
I roll my eyes, trying to mask the way my heart is racing. “Fine,” I say. “I’ll tell you if it gets you off my back. I’m going to Elise’s party at the Sullivan house. Satisfied?”
Adam’s jaw clenches, and I can see the muscle there ticking like he’s grinding his teeth. But finally, he steps aside, leaving just enough room for me to squeeze by.
“Have fun,” he says, his tone flat.
I move toward the door, but as I pass him, my shoulder brushes his chest, and the heat of him radiates through the thin fabric of my dress. Part of me hopes he'll grab me, insist that I stay close, maybe even kiss me hard, but he doesn't.
I don’t look back as I step outside, but I feel his gaze on me the entire way to my car. And as much as I hate to admit it, I really, really like it.
Elise's estate is all sweeping lawns and glowing lanterns, the sound of the party in the backyard filtering to the front. I park and take a moment to collect myself, smoothing my dress and fluffing my hair. The hollow feeling from earlier is still there, but I force a smile onto my lips. This is what I need—people, music, distraction. Anything to push Adam and his ridiculous, sort of hot possessiveness out of my mind.
I head around the side of the house, the lights and sounds growing louder as I go. There are people everywhere, most with wine glasses and snifters in hand as they chat or dance. A few of them turn and wave, and I wave back, but I don't stop to talk to anyone. At least not yet.
I scan the crowd, looking for Elise, and spot her near the bar, surrounded by a group of people I don’t recognize. Elise is radiant as always, her red hair swept up in a chic bun, her champagne glass sparkling in the light.
“Laurie!” she squeals, waving me over. “You look amazing!”
“So do you,” I reply, leaning in for a quick hug.
“Come on, let me introduce you to some people. They’re dying to meet you.”
I let her lead me to her circle, and she starts rattling off names I’ll never remember. There’s Olivia, who’s recently returned from Paris, and James, whose family owns a large amount of the waterfront property in Charleston. Then there’s Danny.
Danny is tall, tan, and has the kind of easy smile that’s probably charmed half the women here. He’s wearing a white linen shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off his sculpted chest, and his dark blond hair curls artfully around his temples.
“Laurie, this is Danny,” Elise says, her voice conspiratorial in the way she always uses when she’s matchmaking.
“Pleasure to meet you, Laurie,” Danny says, his voice smooth, but there's a trace of oiliness to it. Like he's more slick than charming. He takes my hand, holding it just a second longer than necessary, his eyes lingering on mine.
Okay, I think, this is where a normal single 25-year-old would flirt. Except ... I don't want to. In fact, the idea makes me feel disgusted.
I smile, but it feels mechanical. Every time I try to muster up the energy to toss my hair or laugh at something he says, my mind drifts elsewhere. To a certain brooding man back at the house. To the way Adam’s jaw tightened when he saw me tonight. The way I yearned for him to grab me, to put his mouth on mine and give me a reason to stay home.
“So, Laurie,” Danny says, stepping closer, his smile widening. “Elise tells me you’re back in town for a while. How long are you staying?”