Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Back to my apartment,” she says, slipping her dress on. Pulling her hair back, she ties it up in a bun and looks over to me. “It was nice. Thank you for talking to me as well.”
I sit up.
“You don’t have to go, you know? I don’t have to leave for a few more hours yet.” And the thought of that sours my mood. Especially knowing what it is I have to work on. I’d much rather be buried deep inside this spitfire of a goddess.
She shakes her head. “First, you look like you need sleep. You probably should’ve been doing that instead of fucking for the last eight hours.”
“Depends on whose perspective you’re looking at it from,” I lazily say, sitting naked in all my glory.
She laughs. “Besides, I have to go into the shop for a bit. Dawson has a local paper interviewing him about the grand reopening, and I want to make sure it doesn’t look like a disaster. And I need to go back to my place to shower and change first. I’m not walking in there looking like this.”
“Like a perfectly fucked doll, you mean?” I ask sincerely. She hides her smile. “And I thought the shop wasn’t ready yet.”
“It’s not, but that doesn’t mean it can look like a dump. And besides, we both know what this is. And I can’t deny that it’s fun, but I still have to work. There are only a few more weeks left.”
I sigh, tired by her schedule and not entirely liking the idea of her heading back to London. Especially when I’ve just discovered how fun she is.
“Have you visited your mother yet?” I ask.
“Not yet, but I’ll do that before I fly back to England,” she replies, slipping her heels on.
“Your mother wanted me to come with you,” I remind her teasingly as I prop myself up on an elbow.
“You are not going to visit my mother.” She points a finger at me. I smile when her lips twitch.
Fuck, I could bite those lips off.
“Okay. Tell her I miss her and I plan to visit her soon.” I wink, and she rolls her eyes. “What, no goodbye kiss?”
“I think you’ve kissed enough of my body.” She heads toward the door.
This is true, and I would gladly keep on kissing all of it if she let me.
Her gaze roams down my body appreciatively, and it fills me with male pride to know it’s difficult for her to walk out that door. And it’s satisfying for me to know my cum is still coating her thighs.
“My driver will be outside waiting for you,” I tell her.
She stands there awkwardly for a moment, then nods and turns for the door. “Well, thanks for the mediocre sex,” she shouts on her way out.
“Medio—” I start, but the door has already closed behind her. I chuckle, scanning the chaotic mess of a room. The echoing moans continue from my computer screen. I didn’t expect her to see that, but the moment she bumped into it, and I went to catch her, my computer picked up on my facial recognition and, well… I was caught out.
I smirk as I stand up to pause the video, satisfied by all the new hours I’ve recorded of her. Fuck me. If I didn’t have to get on a plane in the next three hours, I’d probably be jacking off to all the new footage. I can’t seem to stop watching her. It’s an obsession.
I didn’t plan to tell her about Hayley; it just kind of happened. However Alina made a valid point about remembering her. Just because I want to forget, does that mean I don’t want her to be remembered?
Hayley was murdered, and the police couldn’t find her killer. Even as a detective myself, I could do fuck all.
It turns out she was digging into things she shouldn’t have been, and a hit was put out on her. She was a police officer.
I guess what she found was bad enough for them to want her dead.
And then I found them.
Every last one of them.
And then I fucking killed them. After that, I knew I was no longer meant to be a detective.
I knew the people we were after were only the small monsters in stories. And I was after the bigger ones. I help take down the worst of the worst.
Gladly.
Sometimes I even do the shooting. I am a fucking excellent shot, that’s for sure.
But if I can keep my hands clean, I will.
Unless an outlet is needed.
Something inside of me shifts. I don’t know if it’s because Thomas’ daughter’s case is too similar to Hayley’s or if it has something to do with speaking about her to Alina. But I feel that chapter of my life, the old wounds, reopening. I’m not sure why, considering I’d kept them buried for so long.