Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap back.
His chest rumbles against my back. “All right, babe.”
“Don’t call me babe either.”
“If I let you go, will you behave and get in my car?”
“Probably not.”
“How ’bout you let me take you out for tacos since you didn’t get them earlier?”
Dammit, he’s playing dirty. “What kind of tacos?” I ask, not that I’m giving in.
“Steak carnitas with extra onions and cilantro. Double order of rice. Guac with lime slices because you like the extra tartness.”
I twist in his arms and look up at him from under my lashes. Of course he knows my favorite. And of course I can’t say no. “That’s low. Even for you.”
“What’s it gonna be?” His lips graze my ear as his grip on my waist begins to loosen. He’s testing me. Or maybe he knows he won and I’m no longer a flight risk. Only psychopaths turn down tacos. His thumbs skim along my belly, and he lets me go. I don’t run. I don’t even think about it.
My stomach growls, giving me away as I backtrack toward his SUV. “I’m only going for the tacos. Then you’re for real fired. Oh—and you’re buying.” The locks release, and I climb in and shut the door. I’m only doing this for the free tacos.
Chapter eight
Mindy
I’m going to murder him.
“You did this on purpose.”
“Exactly what did I do?” he asks as I throw myself on my couch.
“You fed me so many tacos, I can’t even think about firing you. I’m too stuffed.”
Chuckling, he sits next to me, picks up my feet, and rests my legs on his lap. “You told me not to talk to you.”
“And I meant it. It was the most peaceful lunch I’ve had in a while, but you could have at least waved a white flag. Anything that said maybe you want to stop after the fourth taco.”
“You looked like you were enjoying yourself. Never seen a woman moan so much eating Mexican.”
I lift my head up, “I was not moaning.”
“Babe, you were moaning.”
My eyes narrow. “Yeah, don’t call me babe.”
“You were moaning.”
“Was not.” I rest my head back, exhausted from the energy I spent shoving tacos into my mouth. “What’s even worse is I missed my workout today. I’m going to have to spend hours in the gym tomorrow to make up for all this—”
“Get up.”
“What? No. I’m hibernating. Isn’t that what you bears do after you eat a lot?”
His chest rumbles, and he lifts my legs and sets them on the ground. “Come on. Up we go.”
“Why?” I whine but get up. He guides me to the middle of my living room and grabs my hands.
“Make a fist.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.” I roll my eyes and form two fists. “No, like this. Always keep your thumb out. You tuck it in, you’re gonna break your finger. Now, bend your elbows and keep your fists about this height.” He raises my arms. “Not too high. Okay, place your feet like this. Get your arms and shoulders right and punch.”
“What?”
“Punch me.”
“I’m not going to punch you.”
“Why not? You know you want to.” His lips curl into the sexiest smile.
“Oh, I’ve never wanted anything more. But I don’t want to hurt you. Not a fan of criers.” Dammit, stop smiling at me like that. “Oh, fuck it. Your problem.” I pull back and swing. Then grunt. Punching steel isn’t fun for anyone.
“Good. Punch, pull back, set, and punch again.”
I do as he says, letting off a few more rounds to his chest. It feels good. I bounce from foot to foot while I take my swings, landing a good one to his gut.
“Shit. Calm down, Rocky. Now, if someone comes at you, say they’re stronger, bigger, what do you do?”
“Run?”
“But if they’re faster, you need to be able to protect yourself.” He grabs my arm. “What do you do when someone tries to grab you like this?”
“Scream?”
“That too. Lesson one: size matters. You need to know how to protect yourself if someone bigger attacks you.”
I laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’m SOL if that happens, but go on.”
“Let me show you. You’re the assailant, I’m the victim.” I roll my eyes. “Come from behind and grab me.” He gives me his back. “Grab my arm.” Reaching up, I clutch his bicep. Within seconds, I’m tugged forward, flipped, and put on my back.
“What the fuck?” I grunt. “And what exactly did that teach me?”
“Get up.”
“I’m fine where I’m at—”
Or not. He seizes my hand, and I fly to my feet. “Do it again.”
“Tate—”
“Do it.”
Though being tossed again is last on the list of things I want to do, I put my hand around his arm. Grasping my wrist, he turns and sweeps his leg under mine. I end up on my back but in a much slower way. “Did you see what I did there?”