Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Look at her again and you’re a dead man,” I bark at the cabdriver. His eyes drop immediately to the road but I hear him muttering in Portuguese that if I didn’t want him to look at her ass then I should make sure she wears more clothes.
“Don’t like touching a dirty whore?” Regan says bitterly.
Her words don’t really register at first, and then I realize she was offended that I pushed her away. I run one frustrated hand through my hair. “A guy like me would be pretty damn lucky to be permitted to touch you.”
She snorts. “Nice talk. Doesn’t really match your actions.”
I can’t believe this. She was afraid to wear my socks, but now she’s mad I’m not mauling her. I guess I should be happy she’s still fiery after all she went through. Gives me hope that she’ll go home and live a good life. Although from the sounds of it she needed a new boyfriend. Nick, formerly known as “feared hit man Nikolai Andrushko” and the guy who sent me to find Regan, told me that she had an asshole of a boyfriend. One who didn’t even know she stroked herself off while he snored beside her. Per Nick, Regan’s boyfriend couldn’t give his girl an orgasm if Dr. Ruth were in bed with them giving him step-by-step instructions. At least that was my interpretation of Nick’s dour statement that the boyfriend deserved a bullet in the head for failing to pleasure his woman.
To my way of thinking, men who can’t give orgasms to their women don’t need to be shot, but they don’t deserve goddesses like Regan in their beds, either. They should be celibate, lest some cranky Russian hit man goes around putting them into eternal sleep. Fortunately for the dickless wonders of the world who don’t care about a woman’s pleasure, Nick’s too busy boning Regan’s best friend back home in Minneapolis to be concerned about killing men who are bad in bed.
“Neither of us is ready for any action.” I raise my arm and sniff. “Jesus, I’m ripe. I need a fucking shower.” I’m dead tired, and despite the completely wrong thoughts running around my head of Regan nude and spread out like a feast at Thanksgiving, I’m too tired to do anything but sleep. I’ve been up for about seventy-two hours straight and need some rest before I fall over.
“You’re quite the metrosexual, aren’t you?” She raises a foot toward me and wiggles her toes. The movement is provocative. My eyes arrow right down the black-silk-clad foot toward her inner thigh, and in the dim light of the taxi there are enticing shadows cast by the valley between her legs. The hide-and-seek nature of the shifting light begs me to reach down and explore . . . I force myself to turn away once again.
“I like nice things. Sue me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking me to the embassy?” She nudges me in the knee with her foot. Does she realize how flirtatious she is being? I mean, she’s fucking touching me with her foot. That’s intimate shit right there. It’s a good thing I’m wearing a suit coat. Jesus Hermione Christ.
“Would you have believed me?” I say evenly. Her foot drops away, and I swallow a groan with a heroic effort. Good job, Daniel. I give myself a little pat on the back. She has no idea what she’s doing because she’s thinking about freedom and escape and the good ol’ U.S. of A. I’m the dirtbag having dirty thoughts about a girl who I’ve just hauled away from a whorehouse where she was chained to the wall. And because I can’t be nice to her, I snap back, “You wouldn’t have fucking believed me.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Her attention is distracted and I see we’ve drawn up to the embassy.
“We’re here,” I say with relief, but she makes no effort to get out. “This is it.” I wave my hand out the window. “Consulado Geral dos Estados Unidos.”
CHAPTER FOUR
REGAN
Hope flares in my heart at the sight of the embassy. I am free. I am steps away from going home. Soon, all of this will be a bad memory and I can return to my previous life. Then, I want to laugh at the thought. I am a scholarship student; all of my grades will be torpedoed by my absence. I’ll have to figure something out. Maybe Mike will let me move in with him.
If he can stand to touch me after what I’ve been through. If he hasn’t already moved on and found another girlfriend after my absence. I like to think he’s waiting for me, but Mike has never been particularly emotional. I cling to him more than he clings to me. I have no illusions about our relationship.