Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
And he’s the reason she sounds so weird. I feel it in my bones.
“I need to go,” she says in a rush. “I’ll call you soon.”
She hangs up before I can say goodbye. It might be for the best since I’m afraid I’ll end up saying something she doesn’t need to know. Let something stupid slip. She’s too smart to miss it. So, it’s better if we don’t talk right now, but that can’t last forever. I need my best friend, and it sounds like she needs me too.
CALLUM
What the fuck is taking Bianca so long to get home from work?
Okay, it’s an irrational thought. One physical encounter, and suddenly I think she owes me an answer to every single thing. I’m an idiot.
The past few days have strained my self-control to the breaking point. The push-and-pull, the fight between wanting her more than anything and wanting what’s best for her, means unbearable tension between us. Knowing how easy it is to bend her to my will has me struggling not to take her against the counter every time we cross paths in the kitchen.
Every time I resist, she consumes more of my consciousness. I can barely think of anything but her.
Today was her first day at her new job, but there’s no reason for her to stay late. It takes half an hour to get from town at this time of night, yet the beat-up Corolla she drives is still missing.
And I’m ready to rip some fucking heads off.
“Romero!” My bark brings him from his smaller office across the hall in record time. “How many overdue accounts are still on the books?”
He frowns, tablet in hand. “I don’t know off the top of my head.” His finger flies over the screen.
“Go find out. I want a list of names by the end of the day.” Because I want an excuse to hurt somebody. I’m ready to crawl out of my skin, and cracking skulls always does the trick of calming me down. Grinding my molars, the question lingers. What’s taking her so long?
Has she met somebody? Did some douchebag kid offer to take her out and give her the lowdown on office politics? Once Romero’s on his way across the hall, I blow out a shaky breath and stare at the security feed on my screen like it will somehow bring her home. I need her home. I’m obsessed. Why am I so obsessed? Fuck, this is only her first day on the job. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through this torture every single day.
My gaze lands on the cell sitting on the desk. I could text her and tell her to come home. She always responds well to being told what to do. Why am I torturing myself?
Relief floods me when headlights sweep across the courtyard. I hate how weak I am for this girl. I hate how everything suddenly seems better, brighter, sweeter now that she’s where she belongs.
Still, I pick up my phone.
Me: Report to my office immediately. We have some things to discuss.
I won’t make it the rest of the night without touching her and breathing her sweet scent into my lungs. The hours spent apart are like a knife to the chest, and that only makes me want her more. She is the only thing that can ease the pain.
I pour myself a drink while waiting and enjoy the first sip of scotch, letting it warm me from the inside out. It isn’t long before soft footsteps ring out down the hall. She might as well be running, and all because of a text. Only we know the truth. That it’s me she belongs to, that she’s rushing to. Nobody else.
Rounding the doorway, her perfectly pouty mouth pops open like she’s about to ask a question. I hold a finger to my lips, and she snaps it shut. So eager to do as she’s told. My cock hardens.
“Close the door and lock it,” I order.
She twists the lock into place while I return to my desk and place my glass on the surface.
“Come here now,” I murmur, and as she joins me, I take in her simple black dress and sweater. She’s covered from tits to knees, so I can’t accuse her of tempting a lowlife intern with her body.
Her gaze fills with apprehension. She does not know my irritability has to do with my desire for her and the fact that she was gone for so long. “What’s wrong?” she finally whispers as she sets her purse down. “Is Tatum okay?”
I wish she wouldn’t bring her up at a time like this. “What took you so long to get home?”
Her eyelids flutter. “There was traffic.”
“So you weren’t hanging out with your coworkers?” Before she can take a breath, my hand is skimming halfway up her dress. “Or flirting with some intern who only wishes he could do this to you?”