Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
He felt it would make Devereaux more protective of me, keep me under his watchful eye, which would draw us closer.
I never expected him to invite me to stay at his house.
My palms sweat as he takes the streets like he’s racing the devil. I cling to my seatbelt as he speeds down the interstate.
“Where do you live?”
“Near Meadowbrook,” I wisp out. “The townhomes on the corner of Bridgewood Road.”
“Yeah, I know them.”
Because we are traveling faster than the speed of light, within minutes he takes the exit for Meadowbrook, and thank heavens, he slows down when he turns into the neighborhood. I direct him to my townhome.
He pulls into my driveway and puts his car in park. “Want me to go in with you?”
“No,” I say, because my investigation board is still in the middle of my living room. “I’ll be two seconds.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t insist, so I dart out of his car and hustle down the path that leads to my front door. And because I’m afraid he might change his mind about accompanying me, I run through my house faster than he drove here, throwing clothes into a Victoria’s Secret bag. My heart rate is at a heart attack level when I rush out the door, locking it behind me, and hop back into Devereaux’s car.
“That was fast,” he says.
“Told you I’d only be two seconds.” It’s stifling in here, with him taking up all the air.
“Nice bag,” he says as he drives through my tiny subdivision, taking the corners a bit too fast for my liking.
I stare at his big hands, gripping the steering wheel so tightly, and remember the other night when those same hands were all over me. “Yeah, it’s all I had.”
He glances over at me. “What do you think her secret was?”
“Who? Victoria?”
“Yeah, do you think she really had a secret? One so naughty she couldn’t tell anyone?”
“Actually, they named it after Queen Victoria, and possibly her secret was that she wore naughty lingerie under her dresses.”
He smirks. “Do you like naughty lingerie?”
“I like the way it makes me feel.”
He grips the steering wheel tighter. “How does it make you feel, Swan?”
I breathe in, wondering if Devereaux will ever say my real name. He must know it. I would think he could look up my file right from his phone. We’re not even at the club anymore, but he still insists on calling me by the stage name. I opt to let it go and not to ask him about it.
Perhaps he hasn’t looked up my file. Maybe he doesn’t care, and I’d look foolish for drawing attention to it. I remind myself this is a job. It’s not real.
“Like a queen.”
“Are you wearing lingerie right now?” he asks.
I smile, not really wanting to tell him. But I go with the truth. “No. I’m just wearing boring panties, nothing special. Plain cotton.”
“I love boring panties. Let me see.”
I blink. “See what?”
“Take your panties off for me.”
“You’ve already got one pair of my panties.”
“And now I want another.” He smirks.
And I can’t believe what I’m about to do, but I lower my panties down my legs and hand them over. There must be a small part of me that likes Devereaux having my panties. It makes me feel like if I were really wearing lingerie.
He takes them from me and brings them to his nose. He inhales, and then his smirk turns into a full on smile. Wide. Breathtaking. “They look naughty to me.” And then he slips the panties into his pocket.
As he maneuvers down the long, twisting road, I think about our expiration date. Soon, we’ll catch the killer and I’ll no longer work at his club. I’ll no longer need to be in his life.
This fleeting attraction between us isn’t real. There’s a pre-destined end to us, so there can never be a start to us. The thought depresses me, and I tear my gaze from him so I don’t get lost in the fantasy.
He turns down a secluded road and we pass through a fortress-style iron gate. As he drives up to his majestic home, it’s hard to keep my jaw from dropping. It’s gorgeous in all its Gothic glory. Devereaux lives in a restored 1872 Gothic Revival Victorian house. Architecture magazines across the country have featured it, making the house one of the most famous things here in Saint Pierce.
Before Devereaux bought the place, the previous owners offered tours once the renovation was complete, but I never took one.
Kind of wish I had now.
“Beautiful, huh?” he asks, pulling into a circular drive.
“Very. I love houses with character and history.” The dark-blue paint of the wood-framed house comes alive under the light of the moon. One cylindrical spire shoots up into the night sky, and a small lamp near the front step illuminates his porch.