Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Not bad.
When the doors open, he steps out of the elevator and into my home, commanding, “Wait here.”
I almost roll my eyes as I watch him search every possible hiding space in my living room and kitchen before heading up the stairs to the bedrooms.
The bedrooms.
Shit.
Breaking out into a run, my heels clack on the tiles. I fly up the stairs, shouting. “Don’t go into the main bedroom!”
Max stops just short of my bedroom door, and I dart in front of him so he can’t go inside.
His eyes meet mine, and with a clenched jaw, he orders, “Move.”
I shake my head. “No. There’s no one hiding in my bedroom.”
Only a ton of laundry, the packet of pretzels and box of chocolates I cuddled up with. Oh, and a Christine Feehan novel.
His features tighten with warning, and it makes my muscles tense. Suddenly it feels like I’m face to face with danger, and it has me swallowing hard.
“My room is a mess,” I admit.
“I don’t care.” Max nods to the side. “Move so I can do my job.”
Fuck my life.
Not happy that he’s determined to invade my privacy, I shoot him a glare as I step out of the way. Max opens the door, and the first thing I see is the bunch of bras draped over the back of the armchair.
Yep. Fuck my life.
Then I spot the panties I wore last night lying at the foot of my bed. I took them off right before I went to town on my clit while imagining a shapeshifting badass claiming me.
The vibrator.
Jesus.
I launch into my room like an Olympic athlete and tackle my bed. Grabbing my vibrator, I shove it beneath my pillow before burying my face in said pillow.
“All clear,” Max says with a hint of amusement in his tone. “You can go about your normal routine.”
Thanks. I’ll die now.
I hear the door shut, and lifting my head, I let out a groan as I glance around the mess that’s my bedroom.
Getting up, I shove my vibrator in my bedside drawer before grabbing all the underwear from the floor and armchair. I put them in the laundry basket then kick my high heels off.
Well, the damage is done.
It’s not like you have to impress him. He’s a hired bodyguard.
Just go on with your life.
“Sure. Easier said than done,” I mumble as I take off the pink and gold mini dress.
Upset that Max saw the mess in my bedroom, I pull off my bra and grab the nearest t-shirt and shorts.
Screw this. I’ll be comfortable in my own space. He can adapt to me.
Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I grab the bag of pretzels and pop one into my mouth while I scowl at my closed bedroom door.
What am I supposed to do with him in my space every second of every day?
I let out a sigh while digging in the bag for another pretzel.
I should put the food Philippe gave me in the fridge.
I drop the bag on my covers, and getting up, I walk to the door and open it.
I hear a scraping sound, and as I head down the hallway, which has a wall filled with framed photos I’ve taken on the one side and a glass railing on the other, I see Max moving my couch away from the windows.
“What are you doing?” I gasp, and picking up my pace, I race down the stairs. “You can’t just move my furniture around.”
I’ve done my best to get behind this bodyguard thing, but this is taking the cake and the freaking cherry on top.
Hell no.
Anger creeps over me as I come to a stop in front of Max. “What the hell do you think you’re doing moving my stuff around?”
Now that I’m barefoot, I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
Damn, the man is built like a mountain.
Max gestures at the window. “Anyone can take a clear shot at you with the couch in front of the window.”
Oh.
His eyes lock with mine. “Stay away from the windows. Stay off all the terraces except for the one by the kitchen. You can use that one.”
I stare at the man as if he’s lost his mind. “Still. You can’t just move my stuff around. The least you could do is ask my permission.”
Max seems to think about what he said, then he nods. To my surprise, he asks, “Where do you want the couch?”
I glance around the open space, and taking the window into account, my shoulders fall because there’s only one spot it can go. “It’s fine there,” I mutter.
Turning around, I grab the bag with containers and walk to the kitchen. I pack the food into the fridge, and when I shut the door, I jump at the sight of Max standing right behind it.