Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“You would have what, Oliver?” He leaned forward again. He was smiling, too. My eyes landed on his lips and froze.
“I would…” Was this crazy? This was crazy. Beckham was releasing some toxic gas into his office through the vents—that was the only explanation for my behavior. “I would do this.” I lifted my butt off the chair and leaned forward, bracing myself on his desk, our lips coming together in a reunion of epic proportions.
It was just as explosive as the night we had first met. Beckham’s kiss was devastating in a way that made me want to clear off his desk and lie down with my legs up in the air.
His tongue parted my lips, slipped into my mouth. I probed with the same vigor, our kiss evolving into something more. The heat was rising far past the usual Miami temperatures which seemed to try and break in through the closed window.
“Jesus, Beckham.” I spoke during a moment we were both catching our breath. Our foreheads were pressed together, my eyes focused in on those beautiful lips. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
“I want to keep doing it,” he said, his voice a low growl. His tongue flicked out, traced the line of my upper lip. It sent a shiver down my back, the heat of it feeling like a lava trail crawling down my spine.
The sound of footsteps outside Beckham’s door startled me, as if we were two little kids caught making out under the bleachers by the history teacher. I jumped back into my seat, the chair almost tipping over from the sudden weight.
The footsteps moved past the door, farther down the hallway, disappearing into the distance.
Beckham looked at me, and he laughed. The motherfucker laughed, and it was the sexiest damn sound I’d ever heard. “You’re something else, Oliver.”
“I get nervous,” I said.
“You don’t have to defend yourself. I like it.”
“You like… my wimpiness?”
He shook his head. “Wimpiness is not how I would describe it. You’re just a cautious guy. It’s endearing. It also makes me want to puff my chest out and fight off whatever shadows you jump at.”
“Okay, one, I do not jump at shadows, let’s not go that far. And two, you can fight off whatever you want, as long as it’s not me.”
“Oh really?”
“Mhmm.”
I was never this bold, this flirty. Not with a man like Beckham, who intimidated me on every kind of level. What was going on with me? Was this even legal? I did just hire him for a job; was it like an employee/boss kind of situation? I didn’t sign anything, so maybe not, but still… No. My mind was ping-ponging all over the place. I had to calm down and focus.
“All right, I should really be heading out now.” It was happening. The full weight of what just occurred was beginning to hit me. I needed to get some fresh air, even if that air was five hundred degrees with a humidity index of a million. “I have to study. But, uhm, we’ve got our numbers, and I’m going to grab crazy glue on my way out.” I stood, the legs of the chair sounding loud against the wood floor. My knees didn’t buckle underneath me like I’d expected they would, so that was a win. “Text me or something. You know, in case you need a break from the case or anything.”
The nerves were evolving into full-blown anxiety.
Not only was it difficult having to talk about my traumatic experience for hours, but having to do it with a man who left a serious impression on me was a special kind of torture. There was no more hiding from him. Even though Beckham had met me under the guise of Jamison and exotic-tiger medicine, there was none of that anymore. He was now familiar with the deepest and darkest part of my psyche. There was no turning back from that.
And here I am, picturing that kiss of his on my lips every damn morning since it happened.
“We’ll be in touch, Oliver.”
Whoa, okay. That was a little cold, wasn’t it?
Then again, what in the glittery heavens did I expect? This was simply a business relationship with intense physical chemistry thrown into the mix, and chances were, it wouldn’t go further than that. Sure, I’d grown enough courage to ask him on a date, but maybe he said yes to placate the broken boy who was paying him to hunt and kill the monsters under his bed? He probably wasn’t interested in dating a guy who was just getting his life started while lugging all his heavy baggage behind him.
“Got it,” I said, smiling, still holding on to my raft of positivity even though the waters were growing stormier and stormier. My hands were clammy, and I was scared my back sweat had seeped through my shirt. I briefly wondered if it would be too weird for me to walk backward out of the office. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”