Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
I grinned to myself and bit into a muffin.
Yes, sex with Claire would definitely be explosive, and not necessarily in a good way. The girl would probably try to kill me if I laid a hand on her. But then, after I'd gentled her with a couple of mind bending orgasms, then she'd unleash that passion on my body.
And then she'd really kill me.
I took another muffin from the tray and inhaled.
To hell with it. I wanted her. I was going to get her. My mind was made up. It would probably be worth the claw marks and banshee level screams once I got her in the sack. I heard her slam her door. Hard.
It would definitely be worth it.
That was it. It was a done deal. Little Miss Claire would soon be mine.
Chapter Six
Claire
I lifted my head from my book. I'd dozed off again while studying. A little stickiness on the side of my mouth told me I'd been drooling.
Nice, Claire. That’s attractive.
I stood and stretched, grabbing my hoodie. A walk around the block would do me good. Fresh air was all I needed.
I stepped outside into the cool spring day and stopped in my tracks.
A vision straight out of hell greeted my eyes. Or heaven, depending on who you asked. I was sure a lot of women would drool over his tall muscular frame, chiseled good looks, long hair, and tattoos. I, however, was not one of those women.
Hunter. In the flesh. And what a lot of flesh it was.
Fantastic. Of course, he was outside again. Hunter was on his back under his bike with tools spread out around him. He still managed to notice me immediately.
Boy, did he ever.
The man did have a pretty nice set of bedroom eyes. Even I had to admit that. The kind of eyes that made it clear that any time spent in his bed would not be lying down. Not for long, anyway.
A shiver went through me straight to my you-know-what.
I tossed my hair and walked past him, ignoring the heated look he was giving me. Scratch that. The look he was giving my legs.
Jesus.
Did he have to look at me like I was something good to eat? I’d never imagined what it would be like to be a filet mignon. Of course, now I didn’t have to imagine it. I knew. Worse than that, did he have to look like he was starving?
Not for food. For me.
It might be flattering coming from anyone who was not a dirtbag criminal!
I tossed my head and ignored him. I was outside to go for a walk. So that was what I would do. Mr. Bedroom Eyes could eat my dust.
We'd been playing this little game for over a week now, ever since the day I'd first come home. He would stare at me lasciviously. I would ignore him.
And every night, I'd lie awake with my body feeling like it was on fire. I would toss and turn till dawn, trying not to imagine what would happen if I said yes . . . and that was just from his eyes.
I wondered what his hands would do to me. Or his mouth. Or his . . .
I shook myself mentally and focused on where I was walking. It was a nice quiet day. In fact, they were all nice, quiet days. Even quieter than things had been before Hunter moved next door.
Other than the occasional revving of his motor, the man was pretty much an ideal neighbor. At least in terms of quiet. And he was doing plenty to fix up his house, and Gran’s along with it.
Gran said there was something about having him around that made the rest of the neighborhood behave a little better.
It suddenly occurred to me that if that was true, maybe I was being too hard on him. He might have some redeemable qualities after all. He’d done a lot more than fix Gran’s squeaky front door, from what she had told me. So, he wasn’t a completely horrible person. Other than the fact that he clearly wanted to take me to ‘pound town’, as my friends from college liked to call it.
Jesus, what was wrong with me? Even my thoughts were full of innuendo. I’d been having naughty thoughts all week. I did not like it. I needed to focus on studying and getting a damned job, not getting serviced by the stud next door!
Get a grip, girl. He's just forbidden fruit. Fruit that you do not want a taste of!
I turned up my music and walked faster. I was not going down that road. If I ever gave in, I’d have to deal with his smug face right next door. And that stream of pretty women Gran had mentioned.
No, thank you! I will not be another notch on that man’s belt. No way, no day. I have too much self-respect for that.