Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“You said your ass was showing. I didn’t think you meant the one that was on your neck.” I giggled breathlessly.
“Don’t do that.” He straddled me fully now, his erection grinding against my stomach, and not by accident. The air swelled between us, full of heavy breaths and hormones and need. I glanced at my door. Locked. Boy, I wanted to do a lot more things that involved gasping.
“Why?”
“Because I have an erection from hell and you almost sliced my balls into pastrami.”
I snorted, rolling my groin once, my navel hitting the crown of his cock through our clothes. He flinched and quickly moved away from me, standing up and walking over to the window, pushing it shut. He turned back to me, and we stared at each other.
We’d helped each other tear down the walls, and I hoped, with every fiber of my body, that what we’d find underneath them wasn’t rotten.
“I’ll ask again—what do you think?” He gestured to his face before grabbing the mysterious bag he’d come with from my window seat.
I scrunched my nose. “I liked you better with the beard and the man-bun.”
“Well, too bad, because you’re going to see this nasty-ass face for a very long time, every day.” He plopped down on my bed and handed me the bag. “Happy Birthday, Snowflake.”
“How do you know that it’s my birthday?” I held the bag, wondering if it felt so heavy because it held so many of my hopes and dreams.
“You told me.”
“Once. In passing. I didn’t mention the date.” My gaze clung to the bag like it was going to dissolve into thin air. It was a simple, purple, plastic bag. No name or brand on it. I knew Bane, and he wasn’t the type to buy a girl jewelry, even if he could afford it. I’d never really liked that Tiffany’s bracelet, anyway. Best thing I ever got was the Kit Kat my dad and I shared every morning on the bus on our way to my school.
“Fine. I looked at your paperwork after I hired you, because you’d mentioned it was in September.” He rolled his eyes, his head hitting my pillow. Now that he was clean-shaven, he didn’t look a day over twenty. I wondered if he knew that, and if it bothered him. I ran a hand over his jaw. Velvet and honey.
“I do like it,” I whispered. He covered his face with his inked hands, as if the whole situation was mortifying for him, and nudged my knee with his foot.
“Just open your present.”
When I shoved my hand in the bag, my fingers found wrapping paper, something round and hard swathed inside of it. I tore it apart and stared, awestruck.
A snow globe with a Labrador puppy inside, one that looked just like young Shadow. Flakes raining down on him, fat and lazy and fake and mine. This gift was all mine, and it meant something. Tears filled my eyes.
“Wow. It’s…”
“There’s more.” He cut me off, sitting up straight. His foot bounced on the bed. He cleared his throat, rubbing the tip of his chin and jerking it in my direction. “Look again. There’s more than just a snow globe.”
I pulled the second present out of the bag. A…wetsuit? I examined it with a frown. The room was dark, but I could still see the little details. The waves that adorned the cuffs, the setting sun printed across the chest. It was a full piece one that was going to cover me head-to-toe.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his chest, his eyes hard on mine.
“You will never not do something because of the scars they left. Never. You will surf. You will live. Why didn’t you report them? Why the fuck are they not in jail right now? They were eighteen when it happened.”
My eyes widened. This had taken a wrong turn, fast. I didn’t want to get into the story. I didn’t even want to know how Bane knew they weren’t minors, and how deep he’d dug into my case.
“The case is closed, Officer Villegas. Nothing to talk about anymore. Let’s go, Jesse.”
Pam’s words came back to haunt me. I shook my head, trying to swallow the bitter lump in my throat.
“Can we not talk about it?”
“No. We kind of have to.”
“Really, Bane? On my birthday?”
“It’s Roman. And will you talk about it tomorrow?”
No. “Maybe.”
“You let them get away with it.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” I growled. The way I said that, with my eyes burning holes through his newly-shaven skin, must have told him he was in no position to talk to me about it. He narrowed his eyes, the fire in them promising the retaliation I was reluctant to seek for myself, then wiped the anger from his face completely and smiled.
“So, how did I do?”