Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Well, now they’re all going to know he’s a limp dick asshole.
“Humph.” I smile, my mood suddenly so much better. As the rage slowly drains from me, I feel depleted from the rain. I throw the stuff back into the trunk of the car and then use the key he gave me to walk into his home.
“Felix!” I call excitedly as the little kitten bounds down the hallway and meows at me. “Who’s a good boy? I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you!” I coo, picking him up and scratching under his chin. He still looks a little feral, but that’s most likely because Ford hasn’t even thought to bathe him, and he still doesn’t have a collar. “Maybe we should have a shower together before we feed you.”
I take him into Ford’s room and head straight for the en-suite. I run the water in the sink and wait until it’s warm. “I don’t even know if I can use human soap on you. Maybe we’ll just rinse you with water until we get you something else.”
The moment I put Felix under the water, he claws up my arm. I scream, letting go of him immediately, and he jumps toward the doorway, looking over his shoulder and hissing at me before sauntering off.
“Ow. Little fucker.” I look at my arm and laugh at the small claw marks. Okay, that’s no to baths. I’ll let Ford enjoy that himself.
I peel off my loose pants and long shirt, then step into the shower. I let the water run down my back as I consider how crazy this might seem. I’m showering in the bathroom of the guy whose lawn I just destroyed. But I don’t give a fuck. I’m proud of it. And the asshole is out at all hours of the night. I doubt he’ll even be back tonight. Or, who knows, maybe he’s with someone else…
“Shut up,” I say to myself, tired of that stupid narrative playing in my head. I mean, I was the one who went on a date, not him.
I enjoy the heat of the water, not having realized how cold I’d become outside. It just shows how determined I was. But now, all the energy is sapped out of me. I use his shampoo and conditioner. I sniff them both. Yep, definitely smells like him—deep and rich. I lather my hair and body, my nostrils flaring at the familiar scent.
I rinse off, then step out and grab a towel. After drying my body, I run the towel over my hair as I walk into his closet to find a shirt. Of course, all of them are black.
The first time I waited for him to come home, I snooped through his things. It turns out Ford is a very boring person: no vices, secrets, or abnormal discoveries. The most peculiar thing about him is the tattooing.
I put on one of his black shirts that’s so big it hangs to my knees, and continue towel drying my hair.
When I step back into the bedroom, I see a shadow leaning against the doorframe, and every hair on my body raises as a cold chill takes over the room.
“Are you ready to be punished, Chaos?”
CHAPTER 20
Ford
Istare at the bold statement carved into my front lawn. Limp dick asshole.
The corner of my mouth twitches. She must’ve had the determination of a thousand burning suns to dig this into the grass during this torrential rainstorm. But I’m not surprised. When she’s on a chaotic rampage, she’ll stop at nothing. I’ve seen it before. But when it’s turned on me? Well, I can’t help but find it amusing.
The car she drove here is still parked out the front. Saturated from the rain, I step into the house and kick my wet shoes off beside the door. I follow the lingering smell of her scent down the hallway and notice Felix sitting outside my bedroom door, licking himself. He looks kind of wet, and I wonder if he was caught in the rain. I leave the kitchen window open just enough so he can come and go as he pleases. My hope is that one of these days, he’ll decide to stay gone permanently, but the fucker keeps coming back to be fed.
I pause in the doorway of my room. Billie is rummaging through the clothes in my closet, and I take a moment to appreciate her. The cocky woman is so bold and defiant that she didn’t even flee the scene of the crime.
Billie Taylor has balls. More than most men I know because if they committed the same crime against me, they’d be packing their bags and leaving the country.
Not this woman, though.
She lives for the challenge.
She thrives in creating chaos.
She exits the closet wearing one of my shirts that hides her curves, but I know exactly how she looks beneath the material. She stumbles, startled, putting her hand to her chest when she notices me.