Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
She scrunched her nose. “There’s no cum in the word commitment.”
“Shh. I’m dyslexic.”
“Are you really?”
“No. But I don’t let facts stand in the way of a good joke.”
If looks could kill, hers would chop me into tartar-sized pieces. I was deeply amused, turned on, and confused. Also: not entirely convinced the whiskey hadn’t introduced me to the nightmare of my dreams.
“How about we start consummating our marriage?” I rubbed my nose against hers, knowing she wanted to hurl a heavy piece of furniture my way. “Practice makes perfect.”
“Legend has it you’re quite the perfectionist.” She pushed at my chest, already raw from my brawl with Sebastian.
I didn’t even entertain the possibility that his disappearance tonight had something to do with her presence here. Nope. No way they’d met. He would never let her see his face. Not in a million years.
I propped my head on my hand, turning serious. “Did you know about my reputation while you were in Los Angeles?”
“How could I not?” She snorted. “Gossip sites love you, and so do women, for a reason I can’t fathom.”
“I know it’s a shocking concept, but not everything they print in the National Enquirer is true.”
“Of course, it is. Especially that story about the UFOs and the mermaids.”
I knew exactly what headline she was referring to. I had a National Enquirer subscription. It was the only newspaper Geezer seemed to like chewing on.
“So, what brought you back here?”
My eyes ran the length of her. The chaotic strawberry-blonde curls. The dark blue eyes. The skin kissed with freckles that weren’t there when we were teenagers and somehow made her more beautiful. She wore all the dips and peaks of her life like a badge of honor.
“Giving you hell.” She tossed the blanket off her and rounded the bed. “What else?”
I watched her lazily, my dick painfully hard beneath the sheets, wondering what her ulterior motive could be. She wasn’t that petty, and I wasn’t that stupid.
“Hell is not a place. It’s a state of mind. And let me assure you, sweetheart, I’m already there.”
She shoved her feet into slippers and picked up a satin robe from the floor, tying it around herself. “Are you asking me to leave?”
Did she unpack? When? The woman was a demon.
I shook my head. “Mi casa es tu casa.”
She tossed her hair outside her robe, and my breath caught in my throat – she was so fucking pretty. “Tu casa is probably an exotic animal trafficking hub, judging by that mysterious south wing no one is allowed to go into.”
Well, at least that confirmed she didn’t know about Seb living here.
I hopped off the bed, still as buck-ass naked as I’d entered, and chased her down the hallway, grinning from ear to ear. “There’s no trafficking going on. The kitties are well-provided for and are enjoying every minute of it.”
“Kitties?” She screeched into a halt, swiveling around, her fists curled by her sides, not bothering to glance down at the goods. “Did you really just make an animal abuse joke?”
To a vegetarian, no less.
“Hey, you started it.”
“You have no red lines.”
“True story. But I do adhere to safe words, so there’s that.”
“It wasn’t a joke.” Her eyes tapered and her cheeks turned as pink as those nipples I could see through her satin cloth. “I was serious about my accusation.”
“No, you weren’t.”
A lock of hair fell across her eyes. I reached to tuck it behind her ear. Because this was real life and not a book, the lock slipped right back to where it was.
I snatched the throw from the couch and wrapped it around my waist like a towel. “If you seriously thought I was a threat to anyone, you wouldn’t willingly move in with me, and the FBI would be here, searching my rectum right about now.”
“You’d probably enjoy it.”
I shrugged. “Don’t kink-shame me, missy.”
Her nostrils flared, and her jaw tightened. We were now equals. I could dish it out as good as I got it.
She shook her head and started for the corridor. Very well. She must’ve chosen one of the guestrooms downstairs.
I joined her, as though we’d embarked on a leisured stroll. “So, how long will you be staying with me?”
“I’m thinking forever, would you mind?” Her weak attempt at getting a rise out of me failed.
“Au contraire. You are always welcome. We have lots of catching up to do.”
“Gossip columns helped me stay all caught up with your antics.”
“… and I cannot wait for you to attend one of my orgies.”
The most persistent rumor – a media favorite, really – was that I hosted sex parties. Wild, illicit, dangerous sex parties. It all started when I hired a car detailing service. They came on the same day of every month like clockwork, taking with them all twelve of my cars to deep clean and refill with gas. A passing jogger spotted all the parked vehicles on the curb outside my property and drew the wrong conclusion. I never corrected them.