Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Brick cleared his throat, reminding me that he was up here. “Are we good here, or do I need to stay?”
“Go,” Micah replied, not looking away from me.
“STAY!” I shouted over him.
A low chuckle from Brick didn’t sound very promising that he was gonna side with me.
“It’s a fucking miracle you’re not married already. You can’t go anywhere and not draw a man in,” Micah said, surprising me.
I crossed my arms over my chest, not sure if that was meant as an insult or not. “I was visiting my neighbor,” I said through clenched teeth.
He smirked then. “So naive.”
That was it. I was done with him. Dropping my arms to my sides, I headed for the door. Brick was watching me, but I didn’t make eye contact with him. I reached for the doorknob and bit back all the things I wanted to shout at Micah. I wasn’t making a scene so that all my neighbors could open their doors and watch.
“I’m not here to fight with you, Tink,” Micah said.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. It didn’t help. I couldn’t stop myself. “Good. Because we both know I’m too slow to keep up!” I replied, jerking the door open and getting inside. Away from him. I didn’t want to see his face or listen to his stupid lies about what I had heard him say.
“Fuck,” Brick muttered just before the door slammed closed.
I paused at the closed door and listened to see what Micah would say, if he had any explanation.
“What the fuck did you say to her?” Micah demanded.
“I didn’t. Jesus, I wouldn’t tell her that. I was on the phone, talking to Jars. She must have overheard me. I didn’t know she was back.”
The door swung back open behind me. Micah was pressed against my back, and his arm went around my front with his palm flat against my stomach. I didn’t move. I wished I didn’t need to inhale because he smelled really good. And his hard body was warm, leaving no part of my backside untouched by it.
When his breath brushed against my ear, I shivered despite myself.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” The thickness in his tone made the bones in my body feel as if they had melted. “It was cruel, wrong, and I’m sorry.”
The way the last two words had come out fiercely, I believed him. But that didn’t change it.
“You’re sorry that I heard Brick say it. That I know that’s what you think of me,” I said just above a whisper.
His hold on me tightened. “Yeah, Tink. I did think that. When you were younger, you were different. But the woman you’ve become is clearly not slow. I said that before I spent any time around you or talked to you like I have the past few days.”
I swallowed against the lump growing in my throat, but said nothing. He wasn’t the first person to call me slow. It had just been years since I’d heard it. I’d thought I had overcome that description. That assumption from others. Just because I wasn’t outgoing and quick-witted. Just because I didn’t have a lot of friends and feel comfortable in a crowd. Just because things triggered my past trauma and I chanted a number in my head—or often out loud. It had made me the weirdo.
“I’m sorry, Tink,” he repeated. “I feel like a shit for saying it. I fucking hate that you heard him.”
His hand moved on my stomach, slipping under the hem of my shirt. The moment I felt his fingertips on my skin, my pulse quickened. What was he doing?
“I’d never do anything to hurt you. I’d kill anyone who did.” His deep voice sounded husky as he brushed his lips across my earlobe. “Tell me you forgive me.”
I wasn’t sure I could force words out of my mouth. Not with his hand up my shirt, the tip of his thumb brushing awfully close to the underside of my boob, and his heated breath on my ear. My body felt as if a spark had been lit in my stomach and was spreading like a wildfire to all my other parts.
“Please, Tink,” he pleaded, then kissed my temple.
I nodded. That was the best I could do, but it was his fault I’d lost all control of my functions.
“Thank you,” he said before his hand slid out of my shirt, and the wonderful, overwhelming feeling of his warmth left me.
My own hand flew up to my stomach as I pressed it there in hopes of settling myself.
“Go to your room, Tink.” His words sounded like a command. “Pack your things. The storm is threatening to be a Cat 4, and you need to be somewhere safe.”
What? How had he switched moods so quickly? He was making my head spin.
“Now,” he barked.