Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Eric’s head inches away from mine, and he smiles. “When you’re not angry, you’re ineffably beautiful.”
“Is that so?” Why does he have to be this irresistible? “When you’re not insulting my favorite book, you’re rather charming and sexy.”
“Your favorite book?” He chuckles while his fingers tease my thigh. “If I say nice things about your favorite book, will it elevate me to a level beyond charming and sexy? I can’t imagine it gets better than that.”
I feather my hand along his chest to his back because I like touching him the way I think he likes touching me. “Perfect.” I bite my lower lip and grin. “Perfect beats charming and sexy. You might be perfect if you like my favorite book. You have everything else. A contagious smile.” My lips brush his. “Your irresistible eyes.” I lift my gaze to said eyes. “Even your mating dance.”
Eric's grin grows from something sexy and subtle to something so victorious that I feel it deep in my chest. This—whatever this is—is different. He’s different in the best possible way. I think I could like him more than I’ve liked any guy in a long time. Maybe ever.
Kissing my forehead, he murmurs, “For now, I’ll settle for being sexy and charming.” In the next breath, he saunters his naked ass to the bathroom.
What’s that supposed to mean? He doesn’t want to be perfect? He doesn’t plan on liking my favorite book? An imposter’s voice in my head whispers, “It’s okay.”
And it should be okay. It’s. A. Book—fiction at that.
But … it’s not okay.
I slide into my capris, tug on my shirt, and gather my undergarments and shoes before tiptoeing to his front door. I hear the toilet flush as I ease it open and, just as quietly, shut it behind me before scurrying to my apartment. When I turn the corner into my bedroom, the hall light illuminates.
“What do we have here?”
I cringe at Freya with her messy red hair, boy shorts, black tank top, and gotcha expression. “Hey.”
Her gaze locks on my arms cradling yellow sandals, a bra, and panties. “Looks like you bolted. Why did you bolt? Poor guy’s going to feel rejected. Seriously … I’ve never seen you home on the same night. Did he kick you out? Is he a weird sleeper? OCD? Bed hog? Did you start snoring?”
I roll my eyes. “No to all of the above.”
“The sex was that bad?”
“No. Just…” I shrug “…the opposite.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh … my … god. You like him. Like … really like him. He crawled under your skin, into your panties, and you didn’t know what to do, so you left.”
Shaking my head, I turn on my bedroom light and dump my stuff on the floor. “We live in the same building, and it just didn’t make sense to stay all night.” After plucking a nightshirt from my dresser, I change tops and shimmy out of my capris.
“So you said goodbye, and you didn’t sneak out. Is that what you’re saying?”
“It’s late.” I squeeze past her to the bathroom. “We had sex. It was good. I have to work tomorrow. End of story.” I close the door.
“Are you going to have sex with him again?”
I plop onto the toilet and close my eyes. God, I hope so.
CHAPTER SIX
The following day, I sneak out while Freya’s in the shower. Checking the hallway through my door’s peephole first, I dash to the stairs when I see the coast is clear.
“Morning, Anna.” My neighbor, Peter, smiles as I unlock my bike from the rack.
“Good morning.”
After securing my bag’s crossbody strap over my torso, I walk toward the exit.
“Eric … Fucking … Steinmann!” Peter yells.
I freeze. I stop breathing. I’m not sure my heart is beating.
“Dude … someone had a good night. Either the walls are much thinner than I realized, or you are some sort of god,” Peter harasses Eric.
Praying for invisibility, I inch my bike toward the door without a glance backward.
“Anna Banana … our neighbor heard you last night,” Eric says.
No. He. Didn’t.
He did not just call me out in front of Peter. That is the opposite of chivalrous. It’s … demonic.
I swallow my embarrassment and will away the flushing of my face as I glance over my shoulder just before reaching the door. “In your dreams, Steinmann.”
Peter laughs, giving me an impish grin like he knows Eric is making shit up about me. I smile to confirm the ridiculousness of it before blowing a mock kiss to Eric Fucking Steinmann.
Dying—seriously dying—inside, I hop on my bike and bolt toward the cafe. I fully anticipate company, and within minutes, I’m greeted with a familiar spicy scent and soft lips at my ear as Eric steps in line behind me.
“Coffee, black. Meet me next door,” he whispers, slipping something into my pocket and disappearing.