Read Online Captivate her: Laws of Seduction Book 1 by Ava Hayworth - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ava Hayworth
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after our one-night stand and disappeared for months. I am not even sure what I am doing in his car right now. I draw back. “Wait – what are you doing?”
“I thought that was obvious,” James says with a chuckle.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Oh, but I am. I know you were as turned on as I was in that elevator this morning.” James smiles roguishly at me, and his dimple peeks out.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “That doesn’t mean I am just going to hop back into bed with you.”
“Why not? I promise you would enjoy it.”
I can only imagine the confounded look on my face as I regard him. “How about the fact that you bailed on me the last time, and I didn’t hear from you for months.”
James sighs, “I would like to apologize for that. Whether you believe me or not, I was thinking of you. You would be much better off without me.”
“Why?”
James turns his head away and stares out the front window for a moment before turning back to me with an almost sheepish look on his face. “Look, Lainey. I know I am not good enough for you. The fact of the matter is,” he runs his fingers through his hair several times. “I am pretty fucked up, not to mention that I am too old for you.”
Too old? Is he serious, or is that some sort of excuse. I shake my head back and forth at his revelation. “That’s ridiculous. You’re not too old for me. What are you, like six, maybe seven years older than me? And quite frankly, I’m fucked up too.” I emphasize every word of my last sentence so that he will understand how serious I am. “Everyone has baggage, James.”
James glances at his driver, who is standing outside the car waiting. “Will you come back to my apartment for dinner? I promise it will – just be to talk,” he rushes to reassure me. “I would like to talk to you somewhere private.”
I look out of the tinted windows at the driver, who has been waiting outside the car during our conversation. Although he doesn’t look uncomfortable, it must be unbearably hot in a suit. I also don’t want to have this conversation in a restaurant or bar, so going to James’s apartment seems like the best option. “Okay,” I agree. James seems surprised at my easy acquiescence, but he rewards me with another one of his intoxicating smiles. My toes curl and I wonder if it will ever be possible to be immune to his good looks and charm.
James rolls down the window to signal his driver, and soon we are pulling into the Midtown rush-hour traffic. We are moving so slowly I wonder if it wouldn’t be faster to get out and walk. James and I remain silent, both preferring to wait until we reach the privacy of his apartment before continuing our conversation. During the short ride, I can’t help second guessing my decision to go with him. He barely had to crook his finger, and I practically jump at the chance to go home with him.
I feel a sense of déjà vu as we walk into his apartment. I once again take in the view of the Hudson River and contemplate the path alongside the West Side Highway. It is my usual running route now. If I had running clothes to change into, I could run home.
I turn to see James regarding me with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “We can order something to be delivered. Do you have a preference?
I shrug. “Something light.” It is too hot to eat anything else.
“How about sushi?”
I give him a smile. “Sounds good.” James picks up the phone to order. I look around his living area and see not much has changed since my last visit. A white couch and two white love seats rest on a gray-hued area rug and are clustered around a glass coffee table. I thought men were into big flat-screen televisions and media systems, but I don’t see any trace of electronics. As I glance around again, it strikes me how impersonal the apartment is. There is nothing in the room to make it personal: no pictures, no memorabilia, nothing.
I look over to the kitchen,
“I thought that was obvious,” James says with a chuckle.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Oh, but I am. I know you were as turned on as I was in that elevator this morning.” James smiles roguishly at me, and his dimple peeks out.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “That doesn’t mean I am just going to hop back into bed with you.”
“Why not? I promise you would enjoy it.”
I can only imagine the confounded look on my face as I regard him. “How about the fact that you bailed on me the last time, and I didn’t hear from you for months.”
James sighs, “I would like to apologize for that. Whether you believe me or not, I was thinking of you. You would be much better off without me.”
“Why?”
James turns his head away and stares out the front window for a moment before turning back to me with an almost sheepish look on his face. “Look, Lainey. I know I am not good enough for you. The fact of the matter is,” he runs his fingers through his hair several times. “I am pretty fucked up, not to mention that I am too old for you.”
Too old? Is he serious, or is that some sort of excuse. I shake my head back and forth at his revelation. “That’s ridiculous. You’re not too old for me. What are you, like six, maybe seven years older than me? And quite frankly, I’m fucked up too.” I emphasize every word of my last sentence so that he will understand how serious I am. “Everyone has baggage, James.”
James glances at his driver, who is standing outside the car waiting. “Will you come back to my apartment for dinner? I promise it will – just be to talk,” he rushes to reassure me. “I would like to talk to you somewhere private.”
I look out of the tinted windows at the driver, who has been waiting outside the car during our conversation. Although he doesn’t look uncomfortable, it must be unbearably hot in a suit. I also don’t want to have this conversation in a restaurant or bar, so going to James’s apartment seems like the best option. “Okay,” I agree. James seems surprised at my easy acquiescence, but he rewards me with another one of his intoxicating smiles. My toes curl and I wonder if it will ever be possible to be immune to his good looks and charm.
James rolls down the window to signal his driver, and soon we are pulling into the Midtown rush-hour traffic. We are moving so slowly I wonder if it wouldn’t be faster to get out and walk. James and I remain silent, both preferring to wait until we reach the privacy of his apartment before continuing our conversation. During the short ride, I can’t help second guessing my decision to go with him. He barely had to crook his finger, and I practically jump at the chance to go home with him.
I feel a sense of déjà vu as we walk into his apartment. I once again take in the view of the Hudson River and contemplate the path alongside the West Side Highway. It is my usual running route now. If I had running clothes to change into, I could run home.
I turn to see James regarding me with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “We can order something to be delivered. Do you have a preference?
I shrug. “Something light.” It is too hot to eat anything else.
“How about sushi?”
I give him a smile. “Sounds good.” James picks up the phone to order. I look around his living area and see not much has changed since my last visit. A white couch and two white love seats rest on a gray-hued area rug and are clustered around a glass coffee table. I thought men were into big flat-screen televisions and media systems, but I don’t see any trace of electronics. As I glance around again, it strikes me how impersonal the apartment is. There is nothing in the room to make it personal: no pictures, no memorabilia, nothing.
I look over to the kitchen,
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