Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"Hey," he says, exiting the interstate in the Pacific Heights area of the city. He brushes his thumb across my cheek before placing his hand on my nape. "I trust you, kitten. If you want to stay at your place tonight, just say the word and that's where we'll go."
"I want to stay with you," I answer. Where we stay isn't really the point. It's more the fact that I'm not even in jail yet and my freedom is already dwindling to nothing. He may trust me, but his coworkers don't. Running to L.A. probably didn't win me any points, either. That's my fault and I know it. But that doesn't make the situation any less depressing. "I'm just saying the entire situation is senseless. I didn't do anything wrong, yet I'm not even allowed out of your sight. Meanwhile, Fake Ivy is free to do whatever she wants."
"Not for long," he promises me, turning onto Lombard and then rolling to a stop at the corner. When the light turns green, he continues through the intersection and drives for a few more minutes before making a right onto Octavia. He pulls into a parking spot at the corner of Broadway and Octavia.
I glance around as he straightens out the Rover. Pacific Heights is one of the more affluent neighborhoods in the area, with ridiculously high rent and a number of upscale condos.
"You live here?" I ask when he turns the Rover off and pockets the keys.
He nods, grabbing his cellphone from the console.
"Okay then," I mumble. I don't know how much Cam makes a year, but I do know that cops don't make much more than teachers, not even detectives. Either I'm wrong about that and Cam makes a hell of a lot more a year than I do, or his family has money, because there is no way I could afford to live in this area, even without my student loans and my father's medical bills.
"Come on," he says, checking traffic before climbing from the vehicle. He stretches his arms over his head before slamming the door closed and circling around to grab our bags from the cargo hold.
I push my door open and climb out, still a little shell-shocked.
Cam meets me on the sidewalk, sliding his arm around my waist. We make our way up the walkway to his building, not speaking. A few people are out jogging, but they don't pay us any attention. Neither does the guy in a suit climbing into a Lexus across the street. Cam lets us into the building and then points the way to an elevator.
I try not to gawk as we wait, but it's hard. The building is old, but nice. The floors are gleaming hardwood, with a gorgeous runner down the length of the hallway. Black and white photographs of historic San Francisco line the walls, with antique tables holding decorative bowls and vases that probably cost more than all of the furniture in my apartment combined. When the doors to the elevator slide open, walls of chrome and glass greet us.
"You okay?" Cam asks, pressing the button for the third floor.
I nod.
He leans back against the wall beside me, a smirk playing at his lips.
"What?" I ask, narrowing my gaze on him.
"Nothing," he says with a little chuckle.
He's laughing at me again.
I cross my arms over my chest and blatantly ignore him until the elevator doors open onto the third floor. Cam strides down the hallway before stopping at the door on the far end. That damn smirk still twitches at his lips, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he inserts his key into the deadbolt and pushes the door open.
"After you," he murmurs politely.
I briefly consider kicking him in the shin and then decide against it.
He steps inside after me and hits the lights.
His condo is nothing like my apartment. For one thing, there is a ton of open space. Massive windows flank two double doors that open onto a patio overlooking Broadway. His furniture is all antique wood and dark leather, with a giant television on one wall. A small bar separates the living room from the kitchen.
"Your condo is gorgeous, Cam," I tell him, a little surprised at how perfect the entire place is. I wander into the living room and run my hand across the back of his sofa. The leather is soft and luxurious, as if it's aged well. I'm almost afraid to sit on the couch, worried I'll mess it up somehow.
"Kitten."
I turn to find Cam watching me closely.
He drops our bags inside the door and then flips the deadbolt before prowling toward me.
"Come here," he says, holding out a hand to me.
I take it, allowing him to pull me into his arms. His lips graze my cheek before he nibbles on my bottom and then my top lip. He licks across the seam of my lips, demanding entry. I grasp onto his shoulders and let him kiss me until I can't breathe. He pulls back after a long moment and examines my face.