Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“You scared the crap out of me too. You said you were at home.” Well, I kind of am. After my last class, I headed back to Shy’s and texted him as I always do when my classes got out. He’s able to meet me after most of them so we can walk together.
Shy is not messing around when it comes to my security. He walks me to all my classes except one, and Apollo walks me to that one because ours are close. There are two Shy can't walk me home from, and I know it annoys him.
After one of the classes, I go hang in the library or grab coffee until his class is over, but today this one let out an hour before his. I’m supposed to text him when it lets out and when I get back to his place. I wasn’t to go anywhere without him knowing. I’m sure most might think this is too much, and maybe it is, but I’m kind of loving it. It’s nice having someone worry over me, which I’ve never had before.
“I mean, technically I am?” I tease him, but he doesn’t laugh. In fact, his irritation grows. Even grumpy, he’s still so damn hot. I can tell he’s a bit out of breath, and I check the time on my watch, noticing he’s out of class early. I texted him when I’d gotten on the elevator that I was home. “Did your class let out early?”
“No, but I didn’t get an alert that you disengaged the security system at our home.” He emphasizes the last words.
“I’m sorry. I kind of wondered what was going on over here. No one has said much.” I shrug.
I’m guessing they still have no idea who broke into my place. The text messages haven't stopped; I’ve just stopped seeing them. Shy gave me a new phone and number, and he has my old one. If anyone tries to get a hold of me, he lets me know. He’s still monitoring it, but I’m not sure what he’s doing with it. However, I do know Shy is beyond good with computers and tracking things. It’s one of the many things I’ve learned about him.
“I’m handling it,” he all but grunts.
I fight a smile because I know he’s pouting about me being here. Or this is his way of pouting. Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten to know Shy so well. I’ve always known bits and pieces because he’s often around, and Celeste told me the whole crazy story about how he and Apollo are half-brothers. I knew Shy’s upbringing wasn't the best, but I had no idea how bad it had really been. I don’t think anyone else knows but me.
Since the day we both let go, he’s opened up to me. Maybe it was the fear that something worse could have happened to me that pushed him over the edge. That I could have been home when that person tore my place apart really made us both stop pretending. Since then, neither of us have been holding back. Shy says we should have been together for years, and he’s right.
“I know you’re handling it. You handle everything when it comes to me.”
He clears the space between us, picking me up by my ass. “And?”
“No and. I love how you handle me.” I want to say I love you too, but I press my lips to his for a quick kiss. When I run my hands up his chest, the tension in his muscles melts under my touch.
“I love when you do what I tell you to. You text me when you’re home, not almost home.” He gives my ass a hard squeeze when I fake an eye roll. “Do you need anything from here?”
“Nope.”
“Good,” he grunts, carrying me out and back toward our place. We pass Jamie in the hallway, and she glares at me. I can be petty when it comes to my Shy, so I kiss him and ignore her.
When we walk inside, he sets me down on the counter and handles turning off the alarm.
“I have a couple of units I need to check in on. Do you want to order in for dinner or do you want me to cook?”
“I’ll cook.” He gives me a skeptical look. “Hey, I’m not that bad,” I huff.
There are a few dishes I can make. Back home we had a chef, so I never really learned to cook, but I find I want to cook for Shy. I want to do a lot of things for him. I don’t want a life like my parents have. It might be silly, but I want to do the things that make him happy because he does the same for me.
“Kitten, your kitchen skills are the last thing I care about.” He comes to stand between my legs, and I wrap them around him. His cock presses into my sex, and I grin excitedly.