Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
She bites her lip in a way that sets my balls alight, that has the beast inside of me howling for possession.
“Okay,” she whispers after a pause. “Sure. Yeah. Let’s go inside then.”
Chapter Five
Zoey
I feel the familiar self-consciousness pricking me as I lead Zack into my apartment. It’s tidy enough, with everything tucked away into its proper place, but the carpet is threadbare and the wallpaper is faded. It has a general rundown appearance, like one of those houses sold at auction to be renovated and made into a proper home.
My heart is still banging in my chest like some sort of drumbeat has taken possession of me, hammering over and over, as I try to fit what just happened into some sort of order.
Zack actually freaking came…
That crazy fact supplants Jerry’s sudden appearance into my life, because, well, I expect Jerry to appear every now and then. It’s a sad pathetic truth, but it’s the truth all the same.
Jerry is a familiar evil.
The only difference is this time I sensed he was going to take it further. He was going to finally act on his twisted desires.
“Would you like a drink?” I murmur, as we stand in my living room, next to my Goodwill couch.
“Sure. Water’s fine.”
I can barely look at him as he gives his answer. He’s so much more handsome in real life – so much more handsome than his photo and the fantasies that have been swirling through me since seeing it – with his startling icy eyes and his behemoth’s heaving body.
His scent washes over me since my apartment is small and we’re standing so close. He smells musky, manly.
I fight the crazed urge to rest my head against his chest, close my eyes and savor the feeling of warmth and closeness, and safety. He’d laugh at me if I did that.
But then, why the heck did he come in the first place?
I get two glasses of water and take them into the living room, placing them on the coffee table. He’s seated himself on the couch, so I take the armchair, sitting back and letting out a shaky sigh.
“So, who was that guy?” Zack’s voice is deep and rumbling, the voice of a man who is used to having his questions answered.
I can only look at him for short moments before I have to aim my gaze elsewhere. At the floor, at the chipped and worn coffee table, at my trembling hands… It doesn’t matter, as long as I don’t have to wither beneath his stern iron gaze.
“It’s a long story.” I wring my hands together, hating it when I feel the blush spreading over my cheeks and down my neck. “I still can’t believe you came.”
He chuckles grimly. “I’m not a ghost if that’s what you’re implying. Or an apparition. A fantasy. However, you want to describe it.”
A fantasy is exactly how I would describe him, with every inch of him seeming to burn through his clothes. He’s wearing a blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, showing his impressive forearms, the open top button hinting at the rock hard surface of his chest muscles.
“Why, though?” I have to force the question past a thousand instincts telling me not to ruin this. But I have to know.
“Why what?” he questions.
“Why did you come?”
“Oh.”
He runs his fingers over the knuckles of the opposite hand, making me remember how close he came to violence back there. Hell, there was some violence, when Zack shoved Jerry up against the wall, hauling him off his feet as though he weighed nothing.
“You left your address. I thought you wanted me to come.”
This answer seems like he’s dodging the question. I wish I could summon some sassiness, some forwardness, and make him tell me the complete truth.
Instead, I take a sip of water, unable to stop the shaking of my hands. Some of the water sloshes over the edge of the glass and slides down my chin, making me feel three instead of twenty.
“Didn’t you?” he presses.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “I…”
I have no clue how I can explain why I wanted to see him in the flesh without revealing this crazy feeling that has taken root deep inside of me, this insane conviction that this man is going to become the most important person in my life one day.
I try to imagine his face if I were to tell him this, and my insides do a nasty twist.
Look at him.
He’s tall and handsome, fitter and more muscular than any man I’ve ever seen in real life, with moon-silver hair and wolfish blue eyes. He must have supermodel type women throwing themselves at him every time he leaves the house.
“I wanted to thank you for the letter,” he says into the silence. “Well…”
“What?” I say when he trails off.
He aims a smirk at me, the corners of his lips transforming his expression into something devilish, almost illicit, as though any second he’s going to leap on me and explore my body with his hands. My sex gives a needy pulse at the thought, willing me to make the fantasy a reality.