Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Thank you, Chase.”
I shove my hands into my pockets to keep from touching her. It’s something I’ve battled with for years. However, the need is suddenly stronger than ever. “Go home, Gabby. I’ll be there as soon as I wrap up with my last client.”
“Chase!” I turn to see who’s yelling for me and inwardly cringe. Monica is a new client of mine. I’ve been training her going on about two months now, and no matter how many times I dodge her advances, she keeps coming on to me. “Oh, you look so strong in that shirt.” She reaches out and squeezes my bicep.
“Monica,” I greet her as I step away from her and next to Gabby. Turning to face Gabby, I send up a silent plea that she goes along with this. Her green eyes are full of fire that wasn’t there seconds ago. Is she jealous? For my sake, I hope so. Reaching up, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and slowly let my index finger trace her jaw. “So, I’ll see you at home?” I ask her. I keep my voice loud enough, I know Monica can hear, but low enough for the question to seem intimate.
I see the question in her eyes, and I try to tell her with mine to go with it. When she steps closer and slides one arm around my waist and rests the other on my chest, I waste no time, slipping my arm around her, holding her close. I’ll take all the Gabby-in-my-arms time that I can get.
“Absolutely.” She grins up at me. “I’m making your favorite for dinner,” she says sweetly.
“Are you two, like, together?” Monica asks.
“We’re more than together,” I say, my eyes still locked on Gabby. “She’s my future wife.” At least in my fantasies of the future. She’s my wife, the mother of my children, the woman who drives me insane, and the person I cherish most in the world. You know, my fantasy world. Not to say she couldn’t be all those things in real life. I would love nothing more, but first I have to work past this misconception she has of me. I could tell her she’s the only woman I’ve touched outside correcting a position while training or escorting someone to or from a building. She’s the only one I’ve wanted to touch for way too long. I could tell her that, but I know she’s not going to believe me. With her living with me, I’m going to be able to show her that the life she thinks I live is not at all how she imagines it to be.
“Oh my God! You’re engaged?” Monica says the words like marriage is a mortal sin.
“Not yet. One day.” I don’t blink or even attempt to look away from the woman in my arms. In true Gabby fashion, those big green eyes of hers roll back in her head, and my grin grows wider, as does hers. Monica can’t see her, and she thinks I’m putting on a show. She’s still smiling up at me, but from the look in her eyes, she thinks I’m full of shit. If only I could make her see.
“I should get going,” she says, trying to back away.
I keep my grip tight, lower my mouth to hers, and place a featherlight kiss just on the corner of her lips. So close, yet so far. “Be safe, babe. I’ll be home soon.”
She blinks. Once. Twice. Three times before slowly nodding. “Don’t forget we need a new door handle on the spare bedroom,” she says, pulling out of my hold.
I smirk at her. “Already on my list, baby. I’ll see you soon.” Her face flushes, but this time I’m sure it’s from anger. She grabs her phone and pulls open the bottom drawer to retrieve her purse. She gives me a quick raise of her hand as a goodbye and disappears down the hall. I watch as she turns toward the breakroom that leads to the employee parking lot. It’s broad daylight, and I have to fight the urge to rush after her to make sure she makes it to my truck safely. She’d be pissed if she knew that was part of my routine. It’s as if looking out for her, taking care of her is in my DNA or something.
“I didn’t know the two of you were together,” Monica says, crossing her arms over her chest. Funny, her breasts rise just as Gabby’s do, but I can’t find it in me to give them more than a glance. I am a man, after all.
“It’s not something we broadcast at the workplace.”
“You two seemed awfully chummy.”
“She’s my girlfriend. How else am I supposed to be?”
“Of course.” She quickly drops her act of being pissed off. Then again, she probably is pissed. Monica is the type of woman who has men falling at her feet. She thrives on the attention, and from the looks of it, she’s none too happy she’s not getting it from me.