Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
As we stand, my eyes dart in the direction of Sarah, but I find she’s already gone. She must’ve gotten the same vibe off of him and left. I’m grateful for the short moments of privacy her absence is offering.
“She left about ten minutes ago,” he whispers as we press closer together to exit the bistro.
“Hmm?” I’m unable to concentrate on his words because his scent is so damn appealing. What is it about guys that smell so good?
“Your friend. She left ten minutes ago.” My brow draws closer. Sarah entered the bistro minutes before I did. How did he kn— “I’m very observant.”
His wink is devastating, a weapon, something I long to see over and over.
Without hesitation, he takes my hand as we make our way back to our building. I want to invite him up, but that would be rude since I now have a guest. Plus, he received a text and needs to be somewhere else.
“What’s your real name?” I blurt as he positions himself nearest the street.
“Wren. Wren Nelson.”
I stop, my feet refusing to move right there on the sidewalk in the middle of St. Louis. “Impossible.”
Turning to face me, his eyes dart to my lips before looking back up. The tingle the small action elicits is sigh-inducing.
“Rach?”
The lump forming in my throat refuses to dislodge no matter how many times I swallow.
“In apartment 1213?”
A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Are you stalking me?”
If he only knew the truth.
“I get deliveries for you sometimes.” He stiffens as if I’ve revealed some deep dark secret. “Or rather the front desk tries to give me your packages. I’d never take anything of yours. That’s illegal.”
“Why would they—”
“My real name isn’t Rachel. It’s Whitney Nelson, and I’m in apartment 913.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“This doesn’t seem all too coincidental?”
He shakes his head, his eyes once again dropping to my lips. “Kismet maybe?”
He takes my hand, and I’m all for the moment we’re about to share, but he urges me to start moving again. Once I’m walking, he doesn’t pull his hand away. It’s warm in mine but not sweaty or uncomfortable, and that’s new for me too.
I’m feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible by the time we make it to the elevator.
He presses the call button with his free hand, using the movement as an opportunity to step even closer to me. I can hear his breathing, and I’m able to tell it’s just as ragged as mine.
“May I kiss you?” His eyes sparkle with need, and I could pull his question apart, break it down and analyze every syllable.
“Consent is so sexy,” I mutter instead, closing the few inches left between our mouths.
We don’t get filthy. There isn’t even any tongue involved, but I feel the warm, soft press of his mouth over every single inch of my body.
Wow. I’ve been missing out.
The elevator dings, urging us apart, but he presses his lips to mine once more, choosing to nuzzle the side of my neck for a brief second before pulling an inch or so back.
“See you soon, Whitney Nelson.”
As I walk off the elevator, I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling like a total fool.
I get one final wink from him before the elevator door closes.
Chapter 11
Wren
“Did you hack the White House or something?” Brooks asks when I walk into the BBS office.
I huff a laugh. “I only do that on Wednesdays.”
He chuckles, but my smile must be contagious because it’s reflected on his own face.
“What’s so urgent?”
He blinks at me as if he didn’t just text me ten times to come back to the office with no further explanation than my expertise is needed.
“We were supposed to do lunch today.”
My jaw clenches. “Lunch?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “It’s my day.”
I don’t say a word to him. I’m not a violent man, but I may need to hone that skill today.
“You don’t need me to work on something?”
“Other than your flirting skills? No.”
Yep. His chances of being murdered are increasing with every word that comes out of his mouth.
With a quick look around the room, I see that Jude is the only other person in sight. This doesn’t bode well for me, considering he’s our medic and would probably be able to save Brooks from any real damage I’d like to do to him.
“I was busy,” I grind out through clenched teeth. “With Whitney.”
“What?” His head snaps back like I’ve clocked him in the jaw. “Why would you leave her to come back here?”
“We were having coffee,” I explain, even though I don’t owe him a damn thing.
“What’s going on?” Flynn asks as he makes his way from the hallway where his office is. “Why do you look like you’re about to commit murder?”
“Because I am,” I answer without pulling my eyes from Brooks.