Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Where were you?” I ask before I remember that’s not a great question to ask a mafia thug.
“Out. Did you eat?” He sifts through the remnants of my lunch and frowns when he finds a whole club sandwich. I nibbled on one piece of bacon and ate the tomato soup and chips instead.
“You’re not eating enough,” he accuses me and wolfs down half the sandwich in one bite.
I brush crumbs off my sweatshirt so I don’t completely look like a poster child for depression. “I’m fine.”
“You need your strength.” He studies my ankle and squeezes my bare knee. I’ve taken to wearing skirts and dresses to make it easy to dress and undress. At his innocuous touch, heat runs up my bare leg, and my pussy begins to throb. “You need all your strength to handle me.”
My body is heating up, ready to handle him.
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“No?” He finishes the sandwich and gives me a wolfish smile that makes my breasts swell.
To hide my reaction, I growl at him.
“Grumpy bunny.” He climbs over me, pressing me into the couch cushions and nuzzling my face. My hips rise automatically to meet him. “It’s okay. I know how to make you sweet.” He’s going to fuck me again and leave me dazed and pliant from orgasms. And my body is ready for it.
I push at his shoulder. “Stop.”
He grabs my palm and kisses it. “You don’t want me to fuck you? To suck your clit until you’re screaming my name?”
I suck in a breath. I do want all that. I’ve had it before, earlier today and three times yesterday, and my clit remembers it fondly. He fights dirty.
He props himself up, his hips still pressing into my pulsing core. His weight is delicious, and I want more, but he takes a moment to cup my cheek in one huge hand. “You like me, bunny. Why do you resist this?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his skull ring. I’m used to seeing it, and I shouldn’t be. It should still inspire a thrill of fear.
I bite my lip.
“Are you stressed?” He’s peering at me.
“Of course, I’m stressed. I’m twenty-two and have spent most of my life completely broke. What broke twenty-something isn’t a stress bucket?”
“Can I fix it?”
I sigh. “Not today.” Especially because he’s what I’m worried about.
“Okay, bunny.” He kisses my nose and lifts off of me. The loss of him makes me dizzy.
He walks to the kitchen, like everything’s normal. I hit play on the movie I was watching before I paused it to take a nap. A minute later, Jaeger’s back with a jumbo tin that turns out to be filled with three types of fancy popcorn.
He offers the tin to me first, and I take a handful, but I tense up when he settles on the couch next to me. I’m halfway through a bonkers rom-com set in a small town that celebrates Christmas all year. If Jaeger’s like any of my old boyfriends, he’s five seconds away from grabbing the remote and changing the channel so he can watch sportsball.
A minute passes. I hold my breath. On-screen, the winner of the Snow Queen beauty pageant is making a speech about saving the town.
Jaeger munches on popcorn, his blue eyes fixed on the screen. “Is this the one with the gingerbread-making contest?”
I blink at him. “What?”
“The movie. Is this the one with the gingerbread-making contest to save the small town? Or the one with the long-lost prince and widow?”
I look from him to the TV screen and back again. He seems serious. “There’s one with a long-lost prince and a widow?”
“You haven’t seen that one?” He points to the screen where a rugged lumberjack is yelling at a trio of kids dressed like elves, telling them that he hates Christmas. “That’s the actor who plays the prince. They just had him shave his beard and dye his hair blond.”
“Really?” The lumberjack looks good with his wild-man beard. I try to picture him as a clean-shaven blond, and the result is pretty bland. “Ugh.”
“Yeah. He looks better like this.” Jaeger takes another handful of popcorn and leans back, slinging his free arm behind me. “But there’s a great ice skating routine. Let’s watch the prince movie next.”
What? I twist to stare at him. “You like these movies?”
He shrugs. “Who doesn’t?”
“Most macho men wouldn’t be caught dead watching stuff like this.” I put my hand out, feeling for his crotch. My palm brushes a hard bulge in his jeans.
He raises a brow.
“Just checking to make sure you have a dick.”
He grabs my wrist and presses my hand against him more firmly. “Oh, I have one. Want me to prove it?”
I shake my head, turning back to the screen. “Let’s just watch the movie.”