Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Nick,” Faith calls after me, her voice echoing from the distance. “Nick. Stop.”
“Not on your life, sweetheart,” I murmur, doubtful she can even hear me, but my actions speak for themselves.
The pounding grows louder right about the time I reach the foyer, as if the asshole just took his boot to the door—or his fists. I disarm the alarm, unlock the door, and right when I’m about to open it, Faith calls out from behind me, “You have on no shoes, no shirt, and no underwear, and your pants are unzipped.”
I open the fucking door, and there stand the two stooges I’d called suits at the winery two nights before. This time they wear matching khakis and white-collared shirts, because apparently khakis are supposed to be intimidating. “Mr. Rogers,” Stooge Number One says, and while I can remember his name, I just don’t care to give him that credit. “I… We…”
Stooge Number Two tries to fill in the blanks. “We didn’t know you were personally involved in this.”
“Card,” I demand.
They both blink at me like I’ve just spoken another language they don’t understand any more than their own.
“Business-fucking-card,” I say. “Now.”
They both fumble with their pockets, and I have two cards shoved at me. I grab one and look at it. Then the other. Both employees of a collection agency that I happen to know the bank that holds Faith’s note hires often.
“We both know the ways you’ve broken the law,” I say. “Don’t do this again.” And with that order, I slam the door on them and lock it. I don’t immediately turn to Faith, who is hovering nearby. I step to the slit of a window beside the door and watch the stooges all but run to their car.
Rotating, I find Faith standing under the archway dividing the hall from the foyer. “They won’t be back. I’ll buy you some time at the bank, but we need to sit down and talk. I need to be fully armed with information when I talk to the bank.”
“No,” she says. “No. I can’t pay you.”
I give her a once-over, her nipples puckered under her pink tee, her hair a wild, sexy mess. Her lips are natural and swollen from my kisses, of which I plan for many more. “I’m doing this for you, Faith. Not money.” I take a step toward her.
She backs up and holds up a hand. “Stop. You don’t get to fuck me and then take over my life, Nick. I didn’t even invite you into my life. I invited you for one night. Hard rule, Nick.”
“I’ve had my share of one-night women, Faith,” I say, voicing what I’ve only just concluded myself. “You aren’t one of them.” I firm my voice. “I’m not leaving. You need my help, and you’re going to take my help.”
“You don’t get to just decide that. I’m not some girl who’s gaga over you, Nick. I’m a grown woman who lives her life and makes her own decisions.”
“Who now has help. There is nothing wrong with needing help besides not having it.”
“You can’t bulldoze me, Nick. I won’t let you.”
“If I could, you wouldn’t be interesting to me, Faith. And you are. More now than the moment I met you, and that’s new for me. Usually, a fuck does the job and I’m not interested anymore.”
“There it is. The exact reason I’m reacting like I am. You basically just confirmed my thoughts. You’ll help me until the interest fades. I pay not in money but by entertaining you and fucking you, until I have the misfortune of sating your appetite. I don’t need what you just made me feel in my life right now or ever again. Leave, Nick.” She turns on her heel and starts marching away.
I stand there, mentally dissecting all the reasons she’s just kicked me to the door, which I don’t plan on exiting. Something to hide. Embarrassment. The something to hide might not even be about a crime, but that embarrassment. Macom. He was obviously part of her life, and a bad one, and I’ve stormed into hers without giving her time to breathe or to reject me. But I don’t have a choice. I can’t let that happen. Not under these circumstances, and as it turns out, I don’t want it to happen for my own personal reasons, which I’ll examine when the heady scent of her isn’t driving me fucking insane.
I pursue her yet again, finding her in the kitchen, her back to me while she stares at a Keurig dripping coffee into a cup. She knows I’m here. I can sense it, but she walks to the refrigerator and pulls out some kind of flavored creamer. I want to storm around that counter, pull her to me, and kiss her until she melts for me. I want to strip her naked and fuck her right here on the solid wood island I didn’t fuck her on last night. But doing those things would only drive home her accusation that I just want sex from her.