Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I put it back, hand shaking.
Yep, something very bad happened in this apartment.
“Okay, Lena, now you really, really should go.”
The hallway to the bedrooms is a minefield of strewn clothes, tossed books, a mattress slit in half, and money.
Lots and lots of money.
It almost doesn’t make sense, all those loose bills. I stare at the cash, trying to count it all. Hundreds and twenties are strewn all over, some of them torn to pieces like confetti. My mouth waters at the thought of scooping them up and my brain goes haywire.
Would Hot Neighbor notice if some went missing?
Assuming he’s even still alive.
What the hell happened here, anyway?
If this was a robbery, they must’ve been after something extremely specific.
I kneel down, heart racing. I feel sick and terrified and so deeply curious I can’t stop myself. Who would do something like this? And who would leave the door hanging open when they were done?
I run my fingers through the cash and feel something underneath. It’s soft and pliable, and when I pull it out, a little laugh catches in the back of my throat.
Boxer briefs. Black cotton boxer briefs. Fruit of the Loom and big. I stare at the underwear and hold them up, nerves and terror making me giddy and stupid.
I picture Hot Neighbor wearing nothing but these and get a little thrill.
I’m not normally an underwear girl. I mean, there’s nothing sexy about these things. I’m running on pure adrenaline right now and not thinking straight, because I’m wondering what they smell like, but I am not a total creep. I’m not like a weird boxer sniffer or something. Normally, at least.
Then there’s a sound behind me and I whirl around.
A man stands near the entry hall. He’s staring at me with narrowed eyes and a hard look on his face.
He’s got a gun pointed at my face.
It’s him. It’s Hot Neighbor. He’s wearing jeans, a dark shirt, and his thick black hair’s pushed back in a careless curly wave.
I’m relieved he’s not dead. A big part of me assumed I was going to find his body.
Hot Neighbor’s still handsome as sin, even looking like he’s about to blow my skull off. The guy’s big and muscular, athletic and gorgeous, with full lips and tan skin.
Despite the clear threat in his expression, he’s otherworldly.
Slowly, I raise my hands up in the air. I open my mouth to speak but I can’t find words. I’m scared, aroused, terrified, mostly confused and emotionally wrecked.
His eyebrows raise.
“Are those my underwear?” he asks.
My mouth falls open.
I’ve still got his boxer briefs clutched in my left hand.
That finally breaks the traffic jam in my skull. “I can explain,” I say as my cheeks turn bright red.
Am I seriously embarrassed right now? The guy’s still pointing a gun at my head and I’m worried about underwear?
“Did you break in here to steal my clothes?” he asks, a little smirk on his lips.
Holy shit. Is he seriously joking around with me?
“The door was open.” I let the undies fall from my hand, beyond mortified. Somehow the embarrassment overwhelms the fear and my head starts working again. Partially, anyway. “I called in and nobody answered and I was looking around—”
“And you thought my underwear was interesting?”
Yep, definitely fucking with me. Who the hell is this gorgeous asshole and how is he acting so smooth?
“It was under all the money.”
He glances down at my feet, frowning. The gun never wavers from my chest as he looks back up. “You’re that girl.”
“I’m definitely a girl.”
“The neighbor. I’ve seen you around.”
He noticed me? Hot Neighbor actually noticed me?
Oh my God, Lena, this is not the time.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to come in here, it’s just that the door was open.”
“You said that already.”
“I was trying to make sure nobody got hurt.” I clear my throat and look around. That seems believable, right? Just an innocent bystander trying to do right by a neighbor, that’s me. “What happened in here, anyway? Not that it’s my business, but—”
But I can’t keep my stupid mouth shut and just had to ask.
Slowly, the gun lowers. He’s staring like he’s not sure what to do with me, and I get the feeling he’s caught between normal violence and extremely grisly and painful violence.
I’m leaning toward normal, but that’s just me.
Getting murdered doesn’t sound all that appealing at the moment. Since I have no clue what to do in a situation like this, I decide the only way out is through sheer force of will.
Otherwise, he’s going to blow my brains out, and that would be bad.
I like my brains. I’ve got wonderful brains.
He looks at the floor and kicks at some debris. “I’m not sure yet. I just got back.”
“I can help you clean up,” I say brightly, like I’m just a friendly girl willing to do her super-sexy neighbor a solid, and nudge the underwear away with my foot before walking into the kitchen. “Do you have a broom or something? I can grab trash bags—”