Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Pretend to, at least. Hell. I don’t even know who the guy is, so why should I care?
See, a girl like me, I don’t usually have anyone give me the time of day, let alone grab ahold of me, demanding I tell them I’m on their special tandem team.
And definitely, nobody who looks, smells, and feels as good as he does.
I’m outspoken, strong-willed, and never hesitate to get my hands dirty.
I make nail guns, for Christ’s sake.
Well. I used to.
But this world doesn’t really have a place for thick-set girls with a mouth and a mind of their own.
It seems that there are not many real men lining up for that sort of action.
And right this minute, my man is flat on his back on my bed which doubles as a couch.
Shit.
I really should call an ambulance.
A guy like this… he’s bound to have insurance.
But that grin on his face disarms me a little.
Okay. It disarms me a lot.
It’s like every fantasy, every wish I’ve had has suddenly come true.
The man of my dreams, helpless and injured with what appears to be a raging hard-on, is sprawled on my couch.
There are no pleats that thick. Not on any pants.
I’d be terrified if it wasn’t for that damned smile on his face.
Such a look of contentment. Anyone would think this guy got off on being mugged and losing his memory.
But my instincts are screaming for me to care for him and ensure he stays safe and comfortable.
I really should call an ambulance… maybe right after I just have a peek at this awfully big swelling in his….
I watch my hands snap back, though.
That part of me realizing what has driven me since the moment I saw him taking over, only to pull back once his smoldering eyes shoot open.
His own hands gripping mine by the wrists firmly makes me gasp, but not from fear.
Any way this man wants to handle me is fine as long as he touches me.
The feeling I get from it is out of this world, like nothing I’ve ever felt in my whole life.
Far from dazed, his eyes are piercing. Penetrating into mine and, along with the grip he has on me, telling me a thousand things that words never could.
“I thought you might be trying to rob me. Bad habit from now on, I’m afraid,” he quips, loosening his grip as I shudder, already missing the firmness of his touch.
I need more of it already as I feel a ripple of arousal set firmly inside me.
Something that mere hands and fingers won’t cure either.
“So, you’re back then?” I ask, playing nurse as I touch his steaming forehead, needing to maintain this connection, this feeling.
“Back?” he asks, puzzled, before shaking his head a little and groaning as he lets his head fall back on my pillows.
“No… I’m not back,” he growls to himself more than anything.
“If remembering who I am is back,” he reflects sorely but manages to smile a little when I keep my hand on his brow. His own hand finally covers mine.
He does feel way too hot to the touch, but I don’t think that’s anything a medic could help with right now.
My body’s flushed with heat, and certain parts of me feel like they might give way if something or someone doesn’t touch them soon.
“Why don’t we try looking in that envelope?” I offer, separating myself from the knowledge of his wallet still in my handbag.
“Good idea,” he agrees readily but winces so hard when he moves forward. I have to demand he let me examine that bump on his head before we do anything else.
“Oh my god!” I exclaim loudly as the size of his knot registers.
A small cut under his thick dark hair is flecked with blood as well as some grays.
Hair I instantly feel like taking handfuls of and thrusting his whole head between my legs if he was up to it.
But the size of his lump is worrying me.
He leans forward so I can get a better look, but it’s the closeness of his body to mine that he picks up on. He makes a low tone again before looking up at me.
“You can call me Johnny two lumps,” he says in a smoky voice. Echoing the thoughts in my mind, which stray instantly to the still heavy bulge in his pants that makes the one on his head look tiny.
He reaches into his breast pocket again, though, eager now to find some clues as to who he actually is.
“You’re not gonna keep passing out on me, are you?” I ask, feeling my teeth chew at my lip again.
I wonder, hoping I don’t make things worse by being selfish about keeping him as mine only while he recovers from his injuries.
Kinda hoping he will just flake out again for a few minutes so I can finish what I was trying to start by looking in his pants.