Sheer Torment by Hannah Ford

Author:Hannah Ford [Ford, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-14T18:30:00+00:00

I was directed up to the penthouse using a different elevator than the one I’d used before.

Landon opened the door for me. He’d changed since I’d seen him, and now he wore a pair of dark jeans that hung low on his hips, and a simple black t-shirt that hugged his biceps and triceps and shoulders. God, he was sexy.

How could one man look so good in such different styles? One minute he was in a suit, looking like a freakin’ GQ model, and now here he was, standing in front of me in a simple t-shirt and jeans looking just as hot.

(Although, let’s face it, there was no way that his jeans and t-shirt were simple – they had the cut and look of pieces that were impeccably made, the kind of things I’d heard about celebrities wearing. His t-shirt probably cost three hundred dollars. Everyone convinced themselves that famous people were idiots for spending their money so foolishly when you couldn’t tell the difference between their three hundred dollar t-shirt and a twenty dollar one from the mall, when of course you totally could.)

He was barefoot, holding a glass of red wine in one hand. Even though he’d ditched the suit for something decidedly more casual, he still exuded power and masculinity, so strong that it seemed to permeate the air around us.

Suddenly, my outfit seemed all wrong.

“Aven.”

“Mr. Sheer.”

His eyes ran up my body, lingering on my breasts, on my hips, before meeting my eyes and holding my gaze for what must have been only a second but seemed like much longer. I waited to notice any kind of disappointment in his eyes, any sign that I was less than, but all I saw was hunger, raw and real.

He opened the door wider and I stepped into the suite.

The suite was just as I remembered it, the open spaces, the infinity pool sparkling before the city, the hallway that led to what I assumed was the bedroom.

“How many suites like this do you have, Mr. Sheer?” I asked, looking around.

He moved to the bar that was situated in the corner and poured me a glass of the red he was drinking, then brought it to me.

I was grateful to have something to do with my hands, and I seized the wine and took a sip.

“Wow,” I said. It was earthy and fruity, sweet but not too sweet, with no sour aftertaste like the stuff I was used to drinking.

“You like it?”

I nodded. “Is this the same kind you sent to my apartment?”

“Yes. It’s my favorite.”

He was staring at me, and I moved from one foot to the next and took another sip of my wine.

“You don’t have to be nervous, Aven.”

I stayed quiet. Of course I had to be nervous. I didn’t trust this man. I barely knew him. I was partially afraid of him, and yet wanted him so badly it was overwhelming. I’d never experienced that kind of desire before, the kind of desire that made

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