Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“I love you too, Sebastian.” I lift my hips, making this powerful man groan. I might be pinned to the bed beneath him, but I’m in full control. “Now move.”
“Anything for you.” He pulls out and thrusts back in. I gasp at the sensation. It’s different from any of the others he’s given me before. I lift my hips, meeting each of his thrusts. “Angel,” he calls between clenched teeth. “I need you to come with me.”
He starts to thrust harder, hitting something deep inside of me. My breath catches a moment before his fingers graze over my clit.
“Sebastian!” I cry out his name as the orgasm hits me. It rushes through my whole body. Sebastian lets out a deep groan as he comes inside of me. His warmth fills me and connects us in ways that will forever be unbreakable.
How have I lived all of these years without this? It was stupid to fight this. It was a battle I never had a chance at winning. I belong to Sebastian, and he won’t have it any other way.
Chapter Seventeen
Sebastian
Leaving Violet behind in the warm bed might’ve been one of the hardest things I had to do, but the Adam thing is a string that needs to be cut off. Violet may not get over her agoraphobia, which is fine, but knowing Adam is running around free isn’t helping. I need to be able to sleep at night, too, without wondering every second if someone’s going to creep into the house and try to hurt Violet again. No matter how good the security, how many redundancies, safety depends on people, and people are fallible. The best thing to do is eliminate as many hazards as possible.
According to the schedule I got from an informant at the police station, the cop that had been with Adam was Carrie Dell, a parole officer with ten years under her belt. She works the morning shift of six to two. It’s ten, so she should be in the thick of things and Adam should be alone. A day nab is harder to pull off than a night one, but you have to be adaptable in these situations.
The parking lot at Adam’s apartment complex is nearly empty. There’s a late model Dodge and a new pickup. The rest of the slots are empty. The new pickup belongs to someone named Theodore Leabo and the Dodge to Fran Thompson. I run a quick name check on both people, and neither appear connected to Adam. Today’s as good a day as any. I tug down the bill of my brown cap and heft the cardboard box full of cupcakes into my arms. At the door, I press the buzzer with my elbow. Fran answers right away.
“Triple Fast Delivery here. Need your signature.”
“Oh? But I didn’t order anything.” The woman’s voice sounds older.
“Maybe it’s a gift?” I suggest. “It’s addressed to Fran Thompson. That you?”
“That is me. Come up, I guess?” She buzzes me in.
I take the stairs, dropping a smoke bomb on each floor, with two on the third floor. Fran’s on the fourth. Wispy tendrils of cloudy air snake across the floor. Fran sniffs the air as she opens her door. “Smells funny out here.”
I sniff my shoulder. “Not sure ma’am. I did shower.”
“Not you.” She gives off an uncomfortable laugh. “Anyway, where do I need to sign?”
“Right here.” I shift the box onto my hip and hand her an electronic pad. She scribbles her name across the screen and takes the box. As the door closes, I can hear her muttering about how she didn’t order anything. The smoke is growing thicker by the time I reach the first floor. Any minute now, the fire alarms will go off. A high-pitched siren sounds just as I’m leaving.
I smile to myself. Right on time.
Back in my truck, I switch out of my brown delivery uniform into my fire department gear. When the firetruck rolls up, I slide into the growing crowd. Soon enough, Adam emerges from the building, dressed in a pair of jeans that aren’t completely buttoned, a faded green sweatshirt and unlaced boots. He has his phone to his ear. I adjust the gas mask over my face and walk over to him.
“Sir, you’re too close to the building. Please come this way.” I motion him backward.
“Any word on what the cause is?” he asks, moving in the direction of my truck.
“No, sir. We won’t know until forensics shows up.”
“Forensics?” His eyebrows go up. “Is this arson? Cuz I know a guy who has it in for me. You hear of Miles King?”
“Sure.”
“He’s got a beef with me.”
“Miles King?” I don’t even have to work to inject the surprise into my voice.
“Yeah. His sister fell for me, but I wasn’t interested so he’s concocted this whole story—” He cuts himself off. “Never mind, but if you’re looking for causes, you might want to check his alibi.”