Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
He surprises me—he always surprises me—with his response. “Don’t do that.” He shakes his head slowly. “Don’t act like you would let something as simple as lust turn your head.”
“There is nothing simple about lust.” When he just waits, I relent. “Okay, fine. I like you. I’ve thought you were attractive since I took the job, but working with you so closely only added to that. You’re a legitimately good guy. I…like you.”
He drags his hand over his face. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I thought you didn’t want me.” I don’t mean for the words to come out almost small. “I don’t know if it would have mattered, but…I honestly thought you weren’t attracted to me.”
Heat and frustration flare in his dark eyes. “Cassandra, after five years of working with me, I would hope that you’d understand that I would never put you in a position where you felt uncomfortable. The more I got to know you, the more I was attracted to you, which just made me more determined to ensure you didn’t feel obligated to…” He motions between us almost helplessly. “Anything.”
“If you know me as well as you say, then you’d know I wouldn’t feel obligated to do shit.”
He shrugs. “I wasn’t going to make your life harder just because I wanted you.”
Last night, we definitely crossed a whole bunch of lines, and I won’t pretend it’s because we’re fake dating. We were both pretty damn clear that we were on the same page about wanting each other. Still, it can’t hurt to make things even more explicitly clear. “Apollo.”
“Yes?”
I can’t tell if he looks hopeful or if I’m just imagining things. It doesn’t matter; I’ve come too far to back out now. I swallow hard. “I would like to have my filthy way with you again the first opportunity that presents itself, and also as often as can be managed before this thing between us ends.”
The tips of his ears go a bit pink, but he sharpens in the same way he did last night. “Consider it a promise.”
“Great. Good. Perfect.” I’m stammering, but I kind of like that he flusters me because I know he won’t use that flustered feeling against me. He seems to enjoy it, too, his attention snagging on my cheeks and lips before coasting down my body in a slow drag I can almost feel.
I start to turn toward the door but stop short. “Apollo, look.” I point to the bed with its absurd number of pillows. Pillows that, until I stood at exactly this angle, hid what appears to be a laptop.
We exchange a glance and move quickly to the bed. He grabs the laptop and opens it. “Surely we’re not about to get lucky now.”
It boots up quickly, showing a desktop with a handful of icons on it. “Not password protected,” I say softly.
He angles it toward himself and starts typing, agile fingers moving so fast through a series of commands that it makes my head spin. I’m decent when it comes to computers, but Apollo is on another level. Within seconds, he has Ariadne’s search history, her password storage, and a whole lot of files of what appears to be fan fiction. “This is worthless.”
“Give me a second.” He narrows his eyes and leans forward. “There.” A new browser window pops up for a different email account. “Minos logged into his email on this computer.”
I lean back. “That seems very foolish of him.” He’s gone through all this trouble to keep things secure, and he logged into his email on a computer that isn’t even password protected? It defies belief.
“Not looking the gift horse in the mouth.” With a few keystrokes, he selects hundreds of emails and begins to forward them to Hector’s email. “This will take a second, and Hector is going to have a lot to wade through, but this is the best lead we have right now.”
All sorts of stuff is stored in email accounts. Log-in info. Bank notices. It will give a skilled hacker like Hector more than enough to work with. “This is big,” I say. “But we also can’t discard the fact that it might be a red herring. Doesn’t it seem a little too convenient?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” The emails finish sending, and he carefully exits out of everything and wipes the history. “But we can’t afford to ignore it.” He goes still. “Do you hear that?”
I hadn’t noticed earlier, but there are footsteps coming down the hallway. “Apollo—”
It happens so quickly. One moment I’m frantically trying to decide if we’re supposed to hide or allow ourselves to be caught. The next, Apollo tosses the laptop back into the pile of pillows, sweeps an arm around my waist, and tows me backward into the closet.
He pushes the hangers out of the way and shuts the door, bathing us in darkness. I’m still blinking and wondering what the fuck just happened. I’ve never seen him move so fast…except last night when he dragged me down to the couch.