Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I was wrong. So, so wrong.
His eyes stood in complete contrast to his voice. They swirled with a raucous fire, burning with heavy-lidded desire. While he sounded relaxed, the dark depths hinted at barely contained restraint. He’d shown complete control over me, but his gaze sparked with wild chaos.
“You did amazing, Aspen.”
Again, more praise that I shouldn’t want or need, but somehow still soothed. The words reached across the space and held me close. “Thank you.”
The soft response shocked me back into action. Last week, I’d thrown his compliment back in his face, and now I practically swooned.
I didn’t know this version of myself.
All I did know was that I needed to get the hell out of there.
I could figure the rest out later.
Alone.
Away from this version of Lucian that called to a version of me I didn’t know existed.
Until him.
CHAPTER 9
LUCIAN
“Marie got Jonah from The Machinists to sign up for an auctioned FaceTime,” Jeremy explained. The group offered congrats to Marie from marketing for getting one of their more private clients to make a donation to the upcoming charity gala Quinn Music Group had planned. “Aspen, were you able to reach out to anyone new?”
My attention shifted to her, as if it hadn’t been there damn near every second since she walked into the meeting.
“I had lunch with Ash and Parker from Haunted Obsession. Parker agreed to auction a FaceTime while the rest of the guys agreed to auction a date.”
That was the second time she mentioned Ash in a meeting and despite what her dad said, it rubbed me the wrong way. Especially after Friday.
What the fuck did that mean?
Who cared if Aspen was just friends with Ash or fucked him on every surface in this building? I didn’t, I reminded myself. And a simple spanking shouldn’t change that.
My jaw clenched anyway at the image of them together—not getting the memo that I didn’t care.
“Oh, snap,” Shiloh crowed. “People are gonna spend so much money on those poor boys.”
“I sure hope so,” Jeremy said. “That’ll be more money we can donate.”
“And what are the charities this year?” Hank asked.
“Suicide prevention and music programs in schools,” Jeremy answered.
“Good. Good. Do we need to cover anything else?” When no one spoke, Hank closed his folder, marking the end of the meeting. “I guess that’s it, then. Keep up the good work, and we’ll talk at the end of the week.”
Previously, I stayed behind to review the details of the meeting with Hank. Not this time. This time, I made a beeline around the table, my eyes glued on the woman, who looked more determined than me to get out of that room.
Thankfully, Shiloh stopped her and talked long enough for me to reach them.
“One might think you’re avoiding me, Miss Quinn,” I said close to her ear after Shiloh left.
Her spine stiffened, reminding me how much I loved watching her muscles relax and soften with each impact of my hand. She slowly turned, and I braced myself for her fierce ire, but was disappointed by a blank stare instead.
“Not at all, Mr. Daire. Just busy.” Her blank stare came with a blank tone.
I scanned her face, looking for any hint of emotion she had failed to cover up.
Nothing.
Not even a flash of annoyance within her gaze.
Irritation pulled at my patience.
“Once again, you seem to be top of the class, princess.” I enunciated the nickname she hated, hoping to goad her into reacting. “Very much the teacher’s pet.”
I watched her eyes, waiting for the familiar spark of fight. She’d mastered neutral features, but her eyes gave away her true emotions.
Except this time, they didn’t. They remained placid and unmoving.
“Thank you,” she muttered, even managing a polite smile before walking away.
And I stood there dumbfounded, unable to stop her.
I hated that thank you. I hated its lack of emotions. I hated how bland and boring it sounded against the thank you she offered last week.
Fuck.
Last week’s thank you visited me in my dreams, day and night. The soft, breathy words that slipped between her full lips played on repeat this past weekend. Paired with the innocent confusion filling her gaze, it was a miracle I hadn’t run across the room for more.
Images of all the filthy things I would have done to her if I allowed myself to halt her exit had filled my head. I’d jacked off more in the past three days than when I was a teen. I’d even gone to the club in the hopes of acting out any of the scenarios, hoping to abate their consistency. However, I only made it as far as the parking lot, unable to get out when push came to shove.
I excused my inability to go in because I hadn’t wanted to play with a woman when I knew I’d be picturing another. But the truth was, being with anyone other than Aspen didn’t tempt me enough to get out of the car. I’d shoved the thought aside, unwilling to give it time to plant itself and grow into more than a whisper of doubt.