Series: Chicago Sin Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Some secret instinct in me wants to heal him.
I think that’s what made me give myself over to him. Made me kiss him. Offer my body up to quench his desperate need.
I wait for him at the door because Armando has my purse. He fishes out my keys and hands them to me. When my fingers shake trying to slide the right one in the lock, he takes over, opening the door and ushering me in with a hand at my back.
My apartment is just a studio and a bathroom. Fortunately, it doesn’t smell.
The front door is painted the color of a bumblebee, something my landlord would shit over if he knew I painted it. But I needed color in all the drab.
Inside, my apartment is simple and small. The one room is furnished with a small two-man purple sofa, a coffee table with a colorful tapestry flung over it, and a TV I bought at a thrift store for thirty bucks. The kitchenette has four cabinets and a small refrigerator. I’m lucky enough that this unit also has a two-burner stove unlike some of my neighbors. There is barely enough room for a tiny table and two chairs, but I was able to cram them into the space.
My bed is up against the far wall in order to give me as much room as possible. I have colors of the rainbow splattered in pillows across a bright blue comforter to make it appear as a lounge area rather than what it is—a bed crammed in a small room with a sofa.
Twinkle lights are strung from one side of the room to the other, casting a warm hue on the space. It might not be much to most, but it’s mine, and I feel comfortable inside.
The kitten mews from the bed, standing up and arching his back in a shivery stretch. “Hi Shadow.” He runs to me on tiny paws and twines around my ankles.
I watch Armando as he moves around my space, unsure of how to read his expression.
Eyes usually give away the feelings that hide behind people’s masks, but when I look into Armando’s eyes, all I see is a void. His entire being seems to have built a wall between us that I can’t penetrate. A sensation of unease and unfamiliarity crawls up my spine as I try to connect with him.
Still, there is something oddly comforting about his presence that makes me feel safe. Ironic considering...
“So what happens now?” I demand, pretending I’m not scared of the hulking man beside me.
Armando rubs his face. “Now?”
I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know. There’s no script for the I-killed-a-guy-in-your-florist-shop scenario.
“Now I’m going to sit on you until I’m sure you’re cool.”
“I’m cool,” I assure him immediately. I guess I’ve been waiting for him to ask me. Or demand it or... whatever. I’ve already decided—if I hadn’t from the very beginning—that I’m not going to rat on him. “I’m not going to tell anyone what I saw. I won’t say a word, I promise.”
He nods. “Good.”
“So... we’re cool. Right?”
“Not yet.”
I huff out a sigh. “So what are you going to do?”
He leans his back against the door and scans my apartment. When his gaze dances over the bed in the corner, his lids droop, but he gives his head a shake and pulls out his phone. “First I gotta make a call. Then I’ll order us some food. What do you like?”
I shrug. Don’t mind a free meal, considering there’s nothing but a couple cans of flavored seltzer water and a bag of potato chips in my kitchen. “Anything.”
He arcs a brow. “You eat calzones? I know a great place.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
He dials a number, and I hear a short, clipped conversation. Mostly yeah and thanks. I head to the bathroom. While I’m there, I hear him order two calzones, a salad, and a bottle of wine, rattling off my address, which apparently, he’s already memorized.
I use the opportunity in the bathroom to quickly clean out the kitty litter although why I’m working so hard is beyond me.
This is not a date.
I hustle out of the bathroom with the tied trash bag of cat poop and run smack into Armando’s big chest.
He catches my wrists then wrinkles his nose and pushes the one with the trash bag away from our bodies. “Do you want it to be a date?”
What?
Oh crap, did I mutter that out loud? I thought he was on the phone!
I pull out of his grasp, practically dashing for the door.
He catches me around the waist right before I get there. “Where are you going?”
I hold the bag up. “To the dumpster. I’m not leaving this in here.” I use my best duh voice.
He doesn’t release me. Instead, he holds me even tighter, his mouth coming to the outer shell of my ear. “Keep up the sass, Flowers. I’d love to spank that ass again.”