Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Modern conveniences have spoiled society. Morgan isn’t wasteful or anything of that sort, but she isn’t aware of the little things that add up to a bigger problem for the world. It’s her life to live and not my place to judge. Explaining myself wouldn’t change anything. She doesn’t want to hear it, anyway.
“I was already in the area,” I answer.
“All right. See you in a bit.”
I hang up the phone. Then, as I gather my things, I freeze when two large arms come around either side of me, hands settling on the desk on each side of the keyboard.
Slowly turning around, I look up into the dark eyes that have been haunting my every free minute.
“Hello, Pixie.”
Chapter Six
~Coal~
Her mouth opens and closes, but she doesn’t speak.
“Wanna tell me what you’re up to?” I ask as I keep her caged in her seat.
“Um …” She pauses. “Not really.”
I laugh.
I shouldn’t laugh. I am an intimidating son of a bitch. I know it. I know I have made grown men piss themselves. Yet, the tiny woman in front of me challenges me.
“Pixie, were you searching me?”
She leans back in her chair, relaxing.
Inhaling, I smell the lavender of her soap, lotion, perfume—I don’t know what, but it’s intoxicating.
“Can I plead the fifth?” Her voice is smooth, calm, and seems to talk straight to my cock.
I’m fucked.
Does she realize this means she’s fucked, too?
I came here angry as hell. I came here to beat the shit out of someone. I came here with the intention of interrogating someone to find out why they would seek me out. Instead, I find the woman who, for whatever reason, can’t leave well enough alone. I find the woman who is in my nightly dreams as soon as I close my eyes. I find the woman I am trying to stay far away from.
“Look, Pixie, while I love a good game of cat and mouse, you’ve got the pussy, but you’re not the pussy, and I’m not the mouse.”
As she gasps, I drop my head low so my breath comes down hot on her neck. I can see the pebbles of her nipples poking out of her shirt and will my cock down as I feel it harden.
“I told you, I’m not hurt and the accident was no big deal. What’s it gonna take to get you off my ass?”
“I have to make it right. I have to do something,” she says as her own breathing picks up, no doubt feeling just as hot as I am right now.
I wonder what she would be like panting under me.
“What’s it gonna take?” I ask again, needing to put space between us, but not doing so.
“Dinner,” she sighs out. “I need to at least make you dinner.”
“Okay,” I concede. “No more looking me up. I got a guy who, every time my name is searched, is on it. Don’t make shit get ugly between us, Pixie,” I warn as Hammer saunters up to my side.
“Screech will have entertainment watching this shit unfold,” Hammer says to me before he immediately brings his attention to the woman in front of me. “Paisley, what the fuck?”
She turns her head to look at him, and I want to drop my head to the curve of her shoulder. Being bald, feeling her skin on mine, I wonder what that soft spot will feel like or what my head between her thighs would feel like.
“Hammer, sh … We’re in a library.”
“You two know each other?” I ask Pixie, keeping myself close, knowing I need to retreat.
“He’s Desirae’s man.” Pixie looks back at me, and I see this sparkle in the green depths of her eyes.
“You know Des?” I again ask Pixie, ignoring everyone around us. I am definitely going to be looking into Paisley Asher now. I brushed her off as a good citizen before, but now the woman is like a dog with a bone. I refuse to be her chew toy, even if my cock wants to know what she can do with her mouth.
“She’s one of my closest friends. Her and Morgan.”
At that, I jump back.
She is too close to home. How am I going to shake her off now?
“Paisley, why would you be looking into Coal?” Hammer asks, bringing us back to what brought us here.
“I owe him,” she answers, looking at me, not Hammer.
“No, you don’t,” I argue back.
“Then make him some of those oatmeal cookies or something, Paisley. I get you aren’t normal, but it’s not really good to go internet stalking someone to repay a debt.”
She balks at his words, and I have this urge to beat the shit out of my friend for making her uncomfortable.
“I like cookies,” I reply, trying to ease her obvious discomfort. Why do I care?
“I’m sorry,” she says, and I can hear the sincerity in her voice. “I just have to make things even between us so our energies can disengage from each other.”