Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“You taking a walk?” he asked when I didn’t go in the direction of the parking lot.
“What? Are you the hall monitor? Mind your business.”
“Lots of mean people could be out there,” he called.
“Yeah, and I’m one of them,” I shot back, glowering at him over my shoulder, then turning and continuing to walk.
I checked several times to make sure he wasn’t following, and that he wasn’t even watching, before I made my way around the back of the second apartment building and toward one of the two storage sheds that were situated there.
I felt like I was on full display with there being nothing to hide me from view as I walked up to the sheds.
Then again, I wouldn’t be the first or last person to go in them, borrowing something, or tossing something that they didn’t know what else to do with.
They didn’t even keep them locked since all that was stored inside was rakes, shovels, pesticides, and old, busted pieces of lawn equipment.
It seemed like the doors screamed, loud and metallic, as I slid them open just wide enough to slip inside.
Using the flashlight on my phone since I hadn’t opened the doors wide enough to let in much light, I maneuvered around the cluttered, spider-infested space until I found a hiding spot that seemed good enough.
There were about half a dozen old, cracked, terra cotta pots in the back.
Unpacking one stack, I slid the drugs into the bottom of the largest planter, then carefully put the others back into place.
I even tossed some old frisbees and a mostly-empty bag of potting soil on the top for good measure, making it look good and undisturbed.
By the time I made my way out of the shed, closed the doors, and peeled off my gloves, my entire body was shaking.
Adrenaline.
Fear.
And a dollop of anger, too.
For that fuckwad making me feel that fear and anxiety, for putting me in this damn situation.
I was a mess at work the whole night, jumping at shadows, looking for tall, scary figures who wanted to beat my face in.
I broke shit and fucked up drinks and didn’t even give a shit about my tips.
By the time my shift was done, I was frazzled and overwrought, my whole body feeling like it was buzzing. My mind broadcasting all the possible ways this could blow back on me.
When I felt the sting of tears in my eyes, I knew I had to do something.
I knew I couldn’t let myself get too in my head about it.
So I did the unthinkable.
I broke my rule about Slash.
Well, okay, I bent it.
I texted him the address to a hotel a few towns over, then I got in my car and made my way there.
One way I knew to get rid of adrenaline, fear, anxiety, and anger was a solid couple of orgasms.
And I was not going to let myself even entertain the thought that in one of my lower moments, who I reached out to was Slash.
Because it wasn’t like that.
It could never be like that.
CHAPTER FOUR
Nyx
The hotel turned out to be even nicer than it had been on their website.
Not that it mattered.
We’d once met up at a sleep-and-fuck right off the interstate, paisley carpet fresh out of the seventies matching the bedspread, the drapes, and the fucking shower curtain in the bathroom.
Admittedly, we hadn’t gone near the bed at that place.
He’d fucked me up against the wall with both of us mostly clothed, me with my skirt hiked up and my panties off, him with his cock out and his pants still in place.
And we’d both rushed out of there quickly afterward. I’d even hand sanitized not only my hands but my legs as well. Then tossed everything into the wash when I got home before taking a shower.
But this was the kind of place where the sheets actually smelled clean and the bathroom practically looked brand new.
I couldn’t seem to shake my anxiety, though, as I paced the room for a solid twenty minutes before I heard the rumble of a bike up the road, then turn into the lot.
That little skip in my chest, that flip-flop in my stomach? Yeah, we were going to go ahead and call that anticipation. Or excitement that all this excess energy was going to have someplace else to go.
I watched as Slash pulled his bike into a spot, then reached up to pull off his helmet.
His head lifted, gaze looking up at the hotel.
And, objectively, I knew he couldn’t see me. I hadn’t been able to see anything when I’d been in the lot looking up at the windows.
But, somehow, it felt like he looked right at me.
My pulse actually quickened.
Then he was off his bike, and I watched his long-legged, unhurried, confident stride before he disappeared into the building.