Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 93(@200wpm)___ 75(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 93(@200wpm)___ 75(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
I realize I’m staring at him and use every ounce of strength I have to pull my eyes off him and look back at the road.
I shift in my seat and realize there’s wetness between my legs. When did that happen? Back at the club or since we’ve been driving? Does he know the effect he’s having on me? The real question is does he even care?
This man must have countless girls fawning all over him for special treatment at his club—one more who can’t even dance isn’t going to make a difference in his world.
But as hard as I try to keep my eyes ahead, I can’t help but sneak a glance back over at him and his beautiful biceps, thickly veined, bulging out from beneath the sleeves of his black T-shirt.
I hate to even think this, but there’s something beautifully ugly about him as a man. His face is ruggedly handsome, but then there’s the scar running down his cheek that’s impossible to miss. I’m sure he hates it, and I’m dying to know the story behind it, but it honestly doesn’t bother me. In fact, it kind of enhances his sexiness.
My heart is racing as I look back at the road. Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes more before we’re pulling into his driveway and I’m able to stand up and move around, even if it’s just to follow him to the front door, which gives me something to do to get my mind off where it has been for the last few minutes.
Colt opens the front door and goes inside. Without saying anything, I follow him and am led downstairs into a finished basement, which is nicer than the trailer I grew up in. There’s a closet, a dresser, a bed, a mirror, and even a small, attached bathroom.
“All yours,” Colt says. He’s standing close and looking at me like he wants to do something. I’m not sure what exactly, but I do know that I whatever it is, I wouldn’t be able to stop him.
But after a few seconds—seconds that feel like minutes—he turns away from me.
“I gotta hit the sack. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good night!” I reply, but before I can finish, he’s already out the door.
My head is spinning as I stand there trying to process my night. More happened to me in this one night I think than has happened to me in my entire life, and I can’t even imagine what I’m in for tomorrow.
* * *
I wake up to the sound of someone moving around upstairs.
Colt!
Immediately panicked, I rush to the bathroom, wet my fingers, run them through my hands, and splash some water over my face, doing my best to look at least semi-presentable. After all, the last thing I need is for him to see me in the morning, wonder what the hell he did last night, and send me packing.
I’m still throwing on some real-life clothes as I hear the footsteps coming down the stairs. I know he’s seen me wearing barely anything, but still, we’re not at the club any longer. I’m barely getting my shirt on when the door opens. But it’s not Colt who walks in.
“D-Damien!”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be staying long,” he grunts. “Colt asked me to come by and drop some things off for him, but I had to see this for myself.”
His eyes move up and down me like rifle scopes. I resist the urge to run and hide.
“See…what for yourself?”
When I first ran into him yesterday, I got the vibe that he couldn’t care less about me. But now, I’m getting the vibe like he’s intrigued by me…but in a not so nice way.
“Colt has never done this sort of thing before, you know?”
“This…sort of thing?” Confusion brews within me. I hope it isn’t showing on my face as well.
“You know what I’m talking about.” Damien smirks, sort of chuckling to himself. He glances around and sees my bag lying unpacked at the foot of the bed. “Haven’t even unpacked yet, huh?”
“Yeah, I…I was tired last night—”
“Well, I gotta go,” Damien interrupts. “I’ll uh…I’ll see ya.”
“Okay!” I reply as cheerfully as possible. “See ya!”
Once he’s gone, I do take a few minutes to unpack my things and place them in the drawers of the dresser. It’s hard to explain the feelings that come over me once my bag is empty. I’ve never lived anywhere before besides with my father, and living with him always felt like being in prison. Even though I barely know Colt, and this room really isn’t much, I’m already feeling at home.
I quickly shower and use a towel he’s provided to dry off, then slip into some fresh, clean clothes. I just can’t believe how much this man has already done for me—a man I just met last night—and I’ve done nothing in return. So with an idea in my mind, I head upstairs and look around a bit.