Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
He’d spent the previous evening—while Rachel was having a sleepover with the ladies at Curly’s—preparing for this very moment, and nothing was going to interrupt him.
The sound of Rachel’s soft footsteps on the stairs had his smile growing. He watched from his peephole as she reached the second floor and stopped in the hallway between their rooms. Her gaze on his door held longing and desire. She bit her lip, took a step toward his door, then shook her head and turned toward her own. Hopefully, she only planned to set down her purchases and then pay him a visit, but it didn’t matter.
He had other plans.
As she unlocked her door, he opened his own with silent movements.
She pushed the door open and let out a loud gasp.
“Oh, my God.” Her bags fell to the floor before she whirled around as though sensing his presence.
Tears glistened in her eyes. “You did this?”
He propped himself against his open doorframe and nodded.
“Why? It must have taken you hours.”
Another nod. “I wanted you to have a better Christmas than last year.”
A gorgeous smile broke out across her face. “Would you like to come in?”
Fuck yeah, he wanted to come in. Deep, deep inside her. Instead of saying that, he pushed off the wall and walked into her apartment. Twinkling lights greeted him, strung all around the small space. The Christmas tree he’d painstakingly picked out and decorated shone from the corner of the room, making the entire space smell of fresh pine.
He’d purchased an insane number of battery-operated candles and had spread them around the apartment. All in all, it looked like a magical, glowing winter wonderland.
“Thank you,” she said as she walked in behind him and shut the door. “This is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. Not that you were trying to be romantic. It just, uh…”
God, he loved it when she got nervous and blushed, but he hated the idea of her suffering with unease.
He turned and backed her against the wall. She wore loose-fitting jeans with torn knees and a tight red shirt under a black cable-knit cardigan. A simple gold chain hung around her neck with a snowflake dangling between her collarbones. Her curls dangled past her shoulders wild and beckoned him to dive his fingers into them. She looked happy, festive, and so damn fuckable.
He gave her a second to voice any discomfort at his proximity. When she didn’t display any signs of discomfort or ask him to back off, he spoke, “I grew up rough and poor but with decent parents who tried their best. I was always a quiet kid. Not so much shy as introverted. I had some friends but often preferred to be by myself. It led to people thinking I was an asshole, but I didn’t mind because it meant they’d left me alone.”
Rachel stared up at him with wide, curious eyes. She seemed to hang on his every word.
“I did have a best friend who I hung out with more than anyone. Dominic. We grew up on the same block and were friends from kindergarten on. Dom was the yang to my yin. He was loud, brash, and wild at times but always fun. Exactly the kind of guy to draw a quiet kid like me out of my shell. Most of the time, I was in awe of him and couldn’t believe he wanted to be my friend. But he did. We supported each other through some really shit times.”
That’s the part of the story that hurt the most, recalling how they’d pulled each other out of quicksand more than once. Frost had Dom’s back more times than he could count, but the same could be said of his former friend. It’s what made the betrayal cut so much deeper.
“What happened?” Rachel whispered. She ran her hands up and down his arms as though sensing he’d need the support of her touch.
“He started selling drugs when we were in our teens. Most kids in our neighborhood did. My parents always tried to steer me away from it. They both worked at a local grocery store. We didn’t have much, but we had more than some. Anyway, their guidance, plus the fact that I didn’t like most people, kept me from running drugs on the streets. I never judged Dom for it, though. It was just how shit was done where we came from. How most survived.
“By the time we graduated high school, he was deep in that shit. I started working at a garage, learning to fix motorcycles, but he’d moved up the ranks and ran a crew of dealers. When we were twenty, there was some trouble with a rival crew, and one of Dom’s guys was killed.”
Feelings of betrayal, shock, and despair came rushing back. Usually, he didn’t allow himself to revisit those dark days even if they had shaped his entire future.