Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 35875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
"My eyes are up here, Jack."
"So they are. But if they're going to stare at me, I'm going to stare back, baby." I lift my gaze to her face, grinning.
She rolls her eyes, scowling as she crosses her arms over her chest to hide her tits. "It's way too early for you to be this aggravating."
"I've heard sleeping with a guilty conscience is hard." I gently nudge her aside before stepping around her, making sure I brush up against her. Fuck me. She's so soft and warm. "You'd probably sleep easier in my bed. Snuggled up against me. Safe." My lips brush her ear.
She whimpers, her eyes going glossy. And then she seems to remember that she's trying to resist me or whatever bullshit she talked herself into because she immediately squeaks and pulls away.
"Too early," she mumbles before dashing down the short hall. "Way too early."
I chuckle, setting the tray on the island separating the living room from the kitchen as she vanishes into her room. I spy her phone and pick it up, grinning when I realize she doesn't even have a passcode set. I quickly dial my number from hers, waiting until mine vibrates in my pocket so I have her number and then I disconnect and program my info into her contacts before putting it back where I got it from.
Not even two minutes later, she reappears with her hair in a messy bun and a robe on over her pajamas.
"Is that coffee?" she asks, her eyes narrowed on the tray.
"Depends." I hold up the carafe.
"On what?"
"If you're feeling talkative this morning."
"No one feels talkative in the morning without coffee, Jack," she scoffs. "If they do, they aren't human."
"I haven't had coffee."
"You're proving my point for me," she says sweetly.
I laugh quietly, shaking my head. "Have you always been this vicious?"
"No." Her shoulders slump, a shadow passing through her eyes. "But I was on my own at eighteen with eight thousand dollars to my name, a father who wanted to kill me, and no identity."
"Jesus." I swallow, my jaw pulsing as I pour her a cup of coffee. "Why didn't you come to me, baby?"
"You didn't even know me, Jack," she whispers sadly. "We met once."
"I would have helped you," I growl, gritting my teeth. Maybe that meeting wasn't significant for her, but it damn sure was for me.
She stares at me for a long moment, completely silent. "No one knew me. I was just the poor little rich girl who lost her mom. I had no friends because I did an independent study program from home because my mom's immune system was so compromised. Her friends stopped coming around after her second round with cancer. I couldn't go to any of his friends because I didn't know which he was paying." Her shoulders bounce in a shrug. "I didn't think anyone else would believe me when I had no evidence. At best, he'd convince them that I was crazy, and I'd end up in a straitjacket. He'd get exactly what he wanted without even ending my life."
I want to argue that she's wrong…but hell. Maybe she isn't. Had she come to me back then, what would I have said? What would I have done? I would have believed her. Of course I would have. But could I have helped? I don't fucking know. Maybe I would have made things worse, and she would have ended up exactly where she feared—in a straitjacket while her father took her company and her money anyway.
I place the mug in front of a stool and then set a plate beside it.
Her eyes widen. "You cooked for me?"
"Figured you probably haven't been doing much of that the last few days."
"I've been eating," she protests.
"I said cooking, Madison." I arch a brow at her. "Cereal, pop-tarts, and whatever you've raided from the pantry isn't food."
"Then why is it in the pantry?"
I smile despite myself. "This is how Drake feels every day, isn't it?"
Her brows furrow as she hops up onto the stool, carefully keeping that damn robe belted closed. "Isn't Drake your brother?"
"Mmhmm. He thinks I'm a pain in the ass."
"In that case, I wholeheartedly agree."
I chuckle, pointing a fork at her. "Eat your damn breakfast, baby."
She shoots me a tiny smirk before taking the fork. I watch, impressed and turned the fuck on, as she inhales the bacon, eggs, and toast, moaning like she hasn't eaten in a year. It should not be nearly as fucking sexy as it is. And yet, by the time she's finished, I kind of want to sweep the dishes off the island, toss her gorgeous ass up there and eat her.
A woman not afraid to eat like there's no one watching? Fuck yes.
I make a mental note to cook for her often.
"Feel better?" I ask when she pushes her plate away, groaning in satisfaction.