Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I don’t say a word as I pull her along, and she doesn’t try to stop me, just resigns to the fact that I’ve caught her red-handed. I lead her toward a quiet area—we’re still in perfect view of the party but far enough away from the craziness that we can attempt to have a decent conversation.
When I bring us to a stop, I immediately turn on her, staring down at those bright green eyes and doing everything I can not to fall at her knees and beg her to take me. “What the fuck are you doing here, Firecracker?”
Her eyes widen as though I’m the crazy one. “Me?” she screeches, looking at me as though she doesn’t know where the hell I found the audacity to even ask. “What are you doing here?”
“No. Don’t you dare try to turn this shit on me. You followed me here, didn’t you?”
Kiara scoffs, barking a loud laugh. “Me? Following you? Oh, my god. Only a man as egotistical as you would think that. Ooh, my name is Raiden Kane, and my head is shoved so far up my own ass that I’m convinced every woman with a pulse is so shamelessly in love with me that they’re all desperate stalkers. Give me a fucking break. I came here to get away from you, so just admit it. You’re the one with the stalker tendencies here, and you’re just embarrassed that you got caught.”
A smirk cuts across my lips, and I reach for her, my arm curling around her waist as I pull her in against my body. “You fucking wish, Firecracker.” She scoffs at me and shoves against my chest, but I don’t let her go as I tip my chin down, my lips brushing the top of her ear. “You listen to me through the wall every fucking night, wishing you were the one I was sinking into, stretching you wide and making you see stars. It’s okay to want me, Kiara. All you had to do was say the word, and I would have given you exactly what you wanted. You didn’t need to go to these extremes.”
She places her hand against my chest and pulls back just an inch, her lips only a breath away from mine as she gazes up at me as though I’m the only man in the world. A soft smile stretches across her beautiful face. “You truly think your nightly performance is something spectacular, don’t you?” she whispers, lifting her chin just a fraction and letting her lips gently brush across mine. “I’ve got news for you, Raiden. You don’t interest me enough to bother spending my days following you around like a lost puppy.”
My fingers splay on her back, claiming as much of her as I can. “Is that so?” I murmur.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Come back to my hotel room, and I’ll show you just how fucking spectacular it gets,” I tell her. “See if that changes your mind.”
“The only reason I would ever go back to your hotel room would be to slaughter you in your sleep,” she says with a sickly sweet smile that I fucking love. “Now, take your grubby little hands off me before I have no choice but to drive my knee directly into that massive cock of yours.”
A deep growl rumbles through my chest. “Fuck, Firecracker. You always know just what to say to get a rise outta me,” I tell her while slowly releasing my hold on her waist.
Kiara rolls her eyes and discreetly pulls away, but she keeps close, much closer than generally accepted by two strangers talking at a party. “If you must know, I’m a travel blogger,” she explains, pulling out her phone and bringing up her Instagram. She turns the screen toward me, showing me her page with half a million followers. “I’ve been touring the beaches of Europe for my blog.”
My brows furrow as I take the phone out of her hand and start looking over her posts. “You’ve been home the past two weeks,” I comment. “This last post says you were in the South of France just yesterday.”
She rolls her eyes, and a wicked grin cuts across her face. “I’d explain it to you, but I left my crayons at home.”
I give her a blank stare, not accepting her shit.
“Okay, fine. I was in the South of France for a minute, and I just took enough pictures to cover me for two weeks. And I’ll do the same here, but at the end of the day, I’m a homebody. I like being in my own space with Spikezilla.”
“Who the fuck is Spikezilla?”
“My pet cactus,” she says, looking at me as though I’m dumb before snatching the phone right back and scrolling through her posts. She stops on one and turns it to show me a picture of a fat cactus with two little arms on either side in a little black pot that says hug me, I dare you. “You owe me a new pot, by the way.”