Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
It’s not out of fear. I have no doubt that I’ll be safe if he tells me that Jones is in custody—which he assured me he’d text about the second it happened—and doesn’t have the ability to hurt me anymore. He wouldn’t put me in danger, but then what’s keeping me here? The warmth of his bed? The casual way he wraps his arms around me like he’s been doing it for years and not just days?
I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to spend a moment away from him more than we would have to while we’re working, but that’s showing my hand too soon, isn’t it?
Does it make me clingy if he wants me here?
Simon bellows from down the hall, and I feel guilt wash over me for not paying more attention to him. Granted, he’s been curled up on Wren’s bed most of the day but finding him making circles in the guest bedroom right outside the bathroom door speaks of his neglect, as does the empty center spot in his food bowl. He’s not out of food, but apparently his ability to see any part of the metal of his dish is a personal affront which I remedy immediately.
“You poor thing,” I coo, scratching behind his ear for the four seconds he allows it. “So neglected.”
He meows his agreement before squatting down to nip the new food. It’s not to his liking so he turns to leave, heading toward Wren’s room once again while I turn toward the living room. I slept in the room last night with his hard body wrapped around me, but it seems a little invasive to curl up in there now.
He told me before leaving to make myself at home, but napping on his bed while he’s gone seems a little too personal, no matter how much time he spent playing my body like a seasoned guitarist last night.
The television holds no interest, but I settle on the couch anyway. Just a couple hours ago, I was content to lie with him and watch sharks swimming in chum-infested waters, and now nothing seems to be able to hold my attention. He’s working, but several texts have come through with memes and a funny video of a kitten climbing in and out of a wine glass, but those aren’t the texts I want. Those aren’t the things my body is urging me to send to him. How busy is he? Would he be angry or impressed if I sent naughty pictures touching myself like my brain is telling me is the best idea, right now?
Cold chills fraught with sexual need wash over my body.
Me: Do you have a throw blanket? It’s chilly on this couch all alone.
There. I smile, knowing I’ve told him I miss him while also allowing him to provide a way to comfort me in his absence.
Wren: Not much longer and I’ll heat that sexy little body of yours up.
I grin down at my phone.
Wren: Extra blankets in the closet.
His words heat me up to the point I start to believe I don’t need a blanket, but then the texts stop and the chill returns.
With a groan, I heave myself off the couch and go in search of something to wrap myself in until he returns.
I find no blankets in the hall closet, but the stacks and stacks of unopened Star Wars LEGO sets makes me smile. There aren’t any blankets in the guest bedroom closet either, but I pause in the doorway of the master bedroom. He allowed me in this space last night, and Simon has no qualms about sleeping on the ruffled blankets, but going in here alone right now makes me feel weird.
My skin tingles when I cross the threshold, and as the scent of our lovemaking last night hits my senses, I’m instantly turned on. Jesus, did we soak the sheets, or is my mind just playing tricks on me?
With my gaze on the closet door, I do my best to ignore the spot on the bed that embarrassed Wren so completely last night. I’ll grab the blankets and then run some laundry. As much as I hate to wash away our combined scents, it just means we get to remake them again tonight.
The light in the closet is harsh compared to the dulled light coming in from the curtains in the room, but after my vision adjusts, I see the blankets high on the shelf. I have to chuckle to myself because it’ll take a damn ladder for me to reach them.
Jumping doesn’t help and climbing the shelving isn’t an option considering I don’t want to fall and lie here helpless for who knows how long. Plus, Simon is irritated with my newfound friendship and he’ll probably start to eat my corpse the second I hit the floor.