Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Shaking his head at me, he mutters, “Yeah, I can see that.”
Question avoidance. Level: expert.
An awkward silence follows. A long awkward silence. And not making it the slightest bit easier on me, Twitch watches me from under his long lashes, his face devoid of expression.
The guy has had his dick in me. He has put his belt around my neck. I let him put his thumb in my virgin ass. He’s brought me to orgasm. More than once. And I don’t know a thing about him. Everything I thought I knew about him is wrong, or completely misunderstood.
Sighing deeply, he asks curtly, “You come to stare at me all day, or you gonna lay it out?” My face bunches at his blunt and rude demeanour. Eyes hardening, he all but barks, “Speak.”
And with that, I blurt out, “I don’t like what you’re doing to me.”
Crossing his long legs in front of him, he says completely uninterested, “No. You don’t like what you let me do to you.”
I ponder this. And when I realize he may possibly (definitely) be right, I ask weakly, “Why won’t you tell me your name?”
His response is a bored stare in my direction. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a pack of colorful chocolate buttons, pours a handful into his palm, and shoves the lot into his mouth. Chewing slowly, I watch his throat work as he swallows bit-by-bit of the melted sticky sweetness, and I press my thighs together, trying in vain to deny the fact that this man has a hold on me.
Finding courage from somewhere deep in my gut, I take a step forward and state with false bravado, “I don’t know who you are, but I’m going to find out…Twitch.”
His gorgeous face contorts in anger, eyes flashing. He stands abruptly and walks behind his desk to sit in the throne he calls a chair. Losing some steam, he picks up a document and skims over it. “Don’t go digging, Alexa. You’re bound to find a few bones.” I don’t know what to say to that, but my stomach clenches tightly. Still reading, he adds, “Keep this up and you’re going to get hurt.”
My spine stiffens. “Is that a threat?”
Lifting his head, his soft brown eyes harden. “It’s a fucking promise.”
My heart pounds in my chest. I need to get out of here. This was a very bad idea.
Swallowing hard, I breathe heavily and take a step back, retreating while I still have some pride left. Halfway to the door, he asks, “Do you have any plans this weekend?”
Stopping in my tracks, I shake my head. Pulling open a desk drawer, he pulls out a golden envelope, removes the card from the inside, and scribbles something onto it. Holding the card in his outstretched hand for me to take, I resist only a moment before curiosity gets the better of me. Once at his desk, I take the card and read in silence.
A masque. Charity function. Saturday night. Costume ball.
I know two people who would love this. Feeling uncomfortable, I ask quietly, “Can I bring someone?”
Twitch’s lip curls. “No date.”
Hmmm. Interesting. We’ll think on that later.
Shaking my head, I start, “No, my two best friends would—” But I’m cut off when leans across the desk, snatches the card from my hand, and scribbles another something on the front. Turning the card over, he pens something on the back and hands the card back to me.
Lowering his head to his paperwork, he dismisses me with, “Til Saturday, Alexa.”
Too stunned to even tell him goodbye, I walk out of his office, close the door behind me, and look down at the card in my hand.
Alexa Ballentine and guests.
A small smile graces my lips.
I have phone calls to make.
The front door of my unit bursts open, and there stands Nikki, looking haggard and worn. Smiling, I open my mouth to greet her, but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “No! You said you’d tell me. Now we’re both free and you can tell me. What the hell happened to you the other day? No more avoiding me!”
Why do people always cut me off?
Signing, I stand from my place on the sofa. “Coffee?”
Sitting in my now-empty space with a groan, she replies tiredly, “Do bears shit in the woods?”
Chuckling, I go about making coffee and thinking hard about just how much I should tell her. Nikki and I don’t have secrets, but in this case, I may need to make an exception. My gut churns in apprehension. Shit’s about to go down.
Placing our coffees on my coffee table, I sit away from her in the armchair so I can have some space while I relay what happened.
“So you know I said a while ago that I thought someone was watching me?” Immediately, her eyes turn worrisome. She nods and I add cautiously, “Well, it turns out I do…” pause, “…have someone…” pause, “…watching me.”