Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“I need a second to… uh, clean up,” I murmur.
He flinches. Again, I want him to growl like the animal he became just now, to tell me he won’t give me any time. To tell me I’m going to do what he wants when he wants, but he’s not that sort of person. Not when his eyes are clear, anyway. Without another word, he turns and walks out of the room. I sigh as I pull my shorts and underwear up, tie my hair in a bun, and try to understand what just happened and what could’ve happened.
A phone makes an alert noise. It’s not mine. I don’t recognize the sound. It’s on the floor. It’s Jamie’s phone—an event notification for tomorrow.
Mystery Meeting, 7 a.m. Underneath it, there’s a location, a diner on the other side of the city. He said he wouldn’t tell me who this person was because it could have something to do with his sister, but what if I went there anyway? What if I found out what was going on by myself?
I hear a knock at the door.
“Did I leave my cell phone in there?”
“Um, I’m not sure.” I hate lying to him. “Wait, here it is.”
He pushes the door open, looking disappointed to see me fully dressed again. He takes the phone when I offer it to him, and then he grabs my hips and pulls me close to him.
“This isn’t over,” he says passionately.
When we kiss, I forget the diner’s name and address. I forget everything except how good he feels, how wanted I feel. It feels as if nothing could ever separate us, and we’re building something real here. The kiss ends, and the address returns to my mind. I’m not sure if it would be wise to go there to spy on him, but I’m going to do it anyway.
CHAPTER NINE
Jamie
“I made coffee,” Lucy says, standing at the door.
I sit up, head groggy, sleep still clinging to me. It took me a long time to drift off last night. Once it happened, I didn’t feel like I got any rest. My dreams were filled with Lucy and her dad, a strange clashing of the two, the lust and the connection combining with hell in ugly configurations.
Now, Lucy is dressed in what I presume is her college gear. She looks fierce, mature, and beautiful with her hair tied up, a white shirt buttoned up, and a stylish yet casual blazer over the top. Her legs are clad in thin, black tights, letting me glimpse her creamy skin through them.
I focus on keeping calm. Last night, after what we did, this strange mood took hold of her. Strange? No, what we did was strange. Her response, the sudden coldness and withdrawal, was the normal part.
A wave hits me powerfully when I walk into the kitchen and find her at the counter. It’s a wave of the future, of all the things we will share. Seeing her in a domestic setting makes me think of children and our future kitchen, all the joy we’ll share.
Walking around the counter, I pull her into my arms and kiss her. She responds with a shiver against me, her mouth opening, our tongues clashing in eruptions of heat. I can feel her responding like she did when she started bucking her hips, as if she couldn’t help herself. Her hands tighten on my shoulders, but then she pushes herself away.
“We’re going nuts, aren’t we?” she says with a shaky laugh.
Her laughter triggers a smirk from me. Despite everything, laughing with my lady is so damn sweet.
“I think we might be,” I reply, “but I’m okay with that if you are.”
“I’m just glad you were here last night. I wonder who that person was.”
I swallow, wishing I could share my thoughts. I can’t assume it’s a coincidence that this mystery person showed up the day after I visited or while I was outside watching her.
“It must be connected to your meeting later,” she says, her hands resting on my arms. “Don’t you think so?”
“I don’t know,” I say, hating myself for not being able to share everything with her.
“You’ll let me know what happens, right?”
“I’d need your cell number for that.”
“My cell number?”
Her expression turns to ash. She looks at me like I’ve just made the world’s sickest joke. Then I get it—cell, as in prison. That’s where her mind has gone straightaway, but then she laughs awkwardly, realizing her mistake. “Oh, my phone number. Yeah. Sure. Okay.”
She reads out her phone number as I type it into my phone.
“I can swing by later,” I tell her, “to check on you.”
She smiles fleetingly but can’t hide the concern in her eyes. “Yeah, okay. What are your plans for the day?”
Insanely, a blush presses against my cheeks. I can feel it like I’m some goddamn schoolboy.