Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
I take my time, washing away the lingering tension from the night before. Sharing a bed with Fox—his heat radiating across the small space, his deep, even breaths lulling me to sleep despite my better judgment—was an exercise in self-control. This shower? My reward.
The sound of the door slamming jolts me back to reality.
“Amelia, what the hell?” Fox’s voice echoes through the bathroom. “Are you planning to bankrupt me with the water bill?”
My heart leaps into my throat as I peek around the curtain. His silhouette fills the doorway, his broad shoulders and messy bedhead making him look both intimidating and devastatingly attractive.
“I’m freezing,” I call over the water, refusing to let him rattle me. “Some of us need hot water to survive.”
“Some of us need the damn bathroom,” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve been in here for half an hour.”
“Twenty minutes,” I correct, grinning to myself. “And you’re just going to have to wait.”
“Not a chance.” He steps closer, and before I can protest, he pulls back the curtain just enough to glare at me. His dark eyes lock onto mine, frustration burning in them like embers.
“Fox!” I shriek, clutching the towel I’ve draped over the rod. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’ve been dying to use the bathroom,” he growls, his gaze dropping for half a second before snapping back up. The smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth is infuriating.
“Then go,” I snap, stepping out of the shower with as much dignity as I can muster, clutching the towel around me. The water drips from my hair, pooling at my feet. “I’m done.”
His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face before he schools his expression back to irritation.
“Finally,” he mutters, pushing past me to the sink. But instead of using the toilet like I expected, he grabs his toothbrush and starts brushing his teeth, staring at me through the fogged mirror.
I freeze, glaring at him. “This is what you were so desperate to do?”
“What can I say?” he mumbles around the toothbrush, his voice teasing. “Personal hygiene’s important.”
“You’re unbelievable.” I roll my eyes, tightening the towel around me.
He spits into the sink, rinsing his mouth before turning to face me fully. His grin is slow, lazy, and entirely too confident. “Relax, Princess. Your pussy might be addicted to me, but you’re not my type. Yet.”
My jaw drops, heat flooding my cheeks. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He leans against the counter, his gaze unapologetically sweeping over me. “I’m just saying, you’re a little high-maintenance for my taste.”
“High-maintenance?” I echo, my voice climbing an octave. “Says the man who can’t handle waiting five minutes for a shower.”
“Five minutes?” He arches an eyebrow. “Try twenty. And let’s not forget the forty-minute bedtime routine last night. Pretty sure Buttercup gets fewer pats than you give your face.”
I glare at him, my grip on the towel tightening. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re dripping all over my floor,” he shoots back, smirking.
My gaze flicks down, and sure enough, there’s a small puddle forming beneath me. I curse under my breath, stepping to the side to grab another towel. Fox doesn’t move, watching me with a mixture of amusement and something else—something darker, more intense—that makes my pulse race.
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, dabbing at the floor with the spare towel.
“And you’re a hurricane,” he counters, his voice softening just enough to catch me off guard. “But I’ll give you this—you’re not boring.”
I pause, glancing up at him. His grin has faded slightly, replaced by something almost… admiring? No. That can’t be right.
I stand, tossing the wet towel into the hamper. “You’re lucky I haven’t reported you for harassment.”
“Harassment?” He chuckles, pushing off the counter and moving closer. “Princess, if you think this is harassment, you’ve got a lot to learn.”
My breath catches as he steps into my space, his presence overwhelming in the small bathroom. He leans down, his mouth close to my ear. “And for the record, you’re not my type because you’re trouble. The kind of trouble a guy like me can’t afford.”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding against my ribs. His words are sharp, but his tone is low and rough, sending shivers down my spine.
“Good,” I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Because you’re not my type either.”
His eyes flick to mine, and for a moment, the air between us is electric, crackling with unspoken tension. Then he straightens, his smirk back in place.
“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says, stepping around me and heading for the door.
As he disappears down the hall, I let out a shaky breath, leaning against the counter for support. Trouble? He has no idea.
Chapter Four
Fox
The wrench slips from my hand, clattering onto the concrete floor, and I bite back a curse. It’s not the first time I’ve lost focus today, but this time, I know exactly what—or rather, who—is responsible. Amelia Grant.