Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“And?”
“Salty.” I shrug at the memory. Mom went ballistic, terrified that I was going to get sick. But I was fine. They’re just like tiny shrimp. “Nothing special.”
He laughs to himself. “Do you get in trouble a lot?”
“Depends what you mean by that.”
“Well, you drank sea monkeys and broke into my apartment.” His eyes move to my jacket, now hanging open, and rake along my exposed skin before meeting my gaze again. A thrill shivers between my legs. No mistaking that look. I’ve seen it before, but never from a man like him. “And you look like that.”
My mouth opens, not sure what he’s implying. Coming from anyone else, and I might feel pissed off right now. But from him? From that mouth and with that tone?
He could tell me I look like a hooker straight up, and I’d still wrap my legs around his face.
“I’m just the kind of girl that helps out her neighbors, that’s all.”
“Right, you’ve got a big heart.”
“I’m a gentle spirit, really.”
“Then why were you fondling my undergarments?”
“I wasn’t fondling anything.” I lightly slap his arm and have to pull my hand back quickly when it’s like hitting pure steel. “And who uses the word undergarments?”
“Don’t change the subject.” His eyes are shining with amusement. We’re standing very close together. “I caught you going through my stuff.”
“And I’m making it up to you by helping you clean.” I stoop down and start gathering cash. “Who has all this money lying around, anyway?”
“Emergency fund.” He gently moves me away and takes over. I could linger a little longer under that touch. “Everyone should have one.”
“Must be nice,” I mutter, frowning at the stacks he makes. There must be enough there to pay our rent for two years. And that’s his emergency money.
We move into the bedrooms. Only one of them is furnished. The other two are mainly barren. Everything’s wrecked, including the bed frame, and it takes an hour before we manage to make the place at least semi-presentable in the sense that I could walk around barefoot without cutting my toes. It’s still a wreck though.
When we’re done, he sits next to me on the edge of the bed, and I’m feeling both exhausted and wired.
It’s a bad combination. I’m loopy and dreamy, and I keep staring at his lips, wondering what they feel like.
Would they taste sharp and metallic? Like the barrel of his gun?
Mom always said I’m too curious for my own good.
Right now, I’m starting to think she was right.
“I keep waiting for you to ask again,” he says softly, staring across the room at the door.
“Ask what?” But I know. The one thing we decided not to talk about.
He gestures all around us.
“Oh, right.” I lean back on my hands. My jacket shifts open more and falls slightly down my shoulders. I should adjust it, but choose not to. His eyes move down my body again, and another tingle shudders between my legs. I like the way he looks at me. I like the way he sits close to me. I like his mouth, the way he teases me, his voice, his sense of humor. I even like the way he smells.
Not his underwear. Him. I didn’t smell his underwear.
“You don’t want to know,” he says after a long, tension-filled pause. “Trust me, it’s better if you act like you never saw this.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Really?”
No, not really, not remotely really, but what else can I say?
I’m dying to know why this happened, but it’s very obvious that this guy is big trouble, and it’s better for my health if I don’t find out.
Even though it’s killing me.
“Sure. Really.”
He laughs softly. This time it’s a low chuckle. “You’re not very good at lying.”
“I’m a wonderful liar. Here, watch this.” I compose myself and meet his eye. “This is totally normal, and I’m having a great time. See? Fantastic.”
“You’re not supposed to admit that’s something you do.”
“Got me there.”
“Let’s pretend tonight never happened. You go back to your place, go to bed, and in the morning, it’s like you never came in here.”
“That’s going to be hard for me.”
“But better for you in the long run.” His smile fades away. Something dark and haunted replaces it. Which only makes me want to ask a dozen questions. “You don’t want to know me.”
“Are you sure?” I tilt my chin toward him. My lips part slightly, and god, I’m practically begging him to come closer.
I know he’s right. The whole gun thing made it pretty obvious. I should get up and go. I should run like my life depends on it.
But I have to know more.
I need to know more.
This man’s a mystery, a gorgeous freaking mystery, and I’m not the kind of person that can ignore so many unanswered questions.
Like, why does he keep looking at me like he wants to tear my body to pieces?