Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
“It was my fault,” Zoey says. “I thought you were missing. You weren’t answering your phone.”
“I left it at work by mistake,” Mallory replies.
“Oh.” Zoey’s shoulder’s deflate, and my hand tightens into a fist to stop me from placing my hand on her, a comforting gesture that would soon turn lust-filled and savage. “I was worried… because of Axel.”
Mallory’s gaze flashes to me as if she doesn’t want to talk about her ex in my presence.
“I’m fine. I went shopping with a coworker, that’s all.”
“I guess there’s no need for me,” I say, trying to keep my tone lighthearted.
I’m looking anywhere but at Zoey, conscious of her standing right beside me. It’s madness, but it’s almost as if her scent is washing around me, through me, infusing my body, mind, soul, my everything.
“Would you like a coffee or anything before hitting the road?”
Mallory asks the question halfheartedly, with pure politeness. She doesn’t want me to stay.
“No, that’s fine. As long as everything’s okay.”
“It is,” Mallory says stiffly.
“I’ll get going, then. I’m glad you’re both doing well. Good luck with the writing, Zoey.”
That’s as much civilized talk as I can handle, and then I’m out the door, almost running across the street. In the car, I let out a shuddering breath as I attempt to build a prison in my mind—a cage with thick bars where I’ll put all these thoughts.
No sexual fantasies about Zoey. No thinking about the taste of her lips. No imagining what it would feel like to stroke my hands from her thighs, across her hips, and then to her breasts, greedily massaging them as she moans and leans against me, her hand reaching out for my groin.
This is going to have to be one hell of a cage.
After working out with one of my old friends, Peter, I head back to my apartment and try to finish the chapter I was working on earlier. It’s late, but that’s often when I get my best work done, the world sleeping, and my creativity flowing.
I’m usually regimented about my writing. I outline the chapters, then execute them just as I would a military operation, but tonight, the words won’t come. Zoey stares at me from the blank page instead. I rarely pleasure myself, but I feel an almost overwhelming urge now. I can’t stop replaying the moment she opened the door, time moving slowly, as I took in her face. She’s captivating. There’s no denying it.
If she wasn’t Mallory and Luke’s daughter… but she is, so I need to obliterate any thoughts that she’s the one—the one who’s going to crack my armor and finally make me feel something real. The woman I will spend the rest of my life with and have a family with.
A family? After one look?
Switching off my computer, I walk through my apartment into my study.
Large bookshelves dominate three walls, the fourth covered in framed copies of my novels. That was Luke’s idea. He always told me I should be proud of my work.
I sit in my favorite armchair and attempt to read, but the words blur, the ink changing shape, turning into curves, temptation, and all the things it shouldn’t. This is wrong. I know it’s wrong as I do it, picking up my phone and finding Zoey’s cell phone number. I’ve never had it before. I had no reason to.
Traveling the world for research, book tours, and writing my novels kept me busy. Hectic enough so I don’t have to think about what happened with Mallory—the stain that time won’t erase.
I save Zoey’s number, then open a text. I’ve still got time to stop, but I don’t.
Instead, I type, Let me know if Axel causes any more problems or if you want me to get him to back off.
I don’t expect a reply straightaway—it’s almost midnight—but my phone vibrates almost immediately.
I’m probably overreacting, but Mom’s the only family I have left. I don’t want anything to happen to her. Axel is the ex from hell, but Mom’s acting like it’s no big deal.
I’ve got people who can look into him, I type. I’m happy to do it.
I think Mom would be pissed. She wants to pretend he’s not a problem.
I can’t let anything happen to you, Zoey.
As soon as I sent the message, I realize my mistake. We’re talking about her mom, not her, but that’s all I can think about. This Axel asshole visits their house one day. Mallory’s not in, so he takes out his petty anger on Zoey instead. Bullets pound in my mind. I smell gun smoke and violence. It would be a bad day for anybody who tried to hurt her.
I’d hate if anything happened to Mom, she replies, so that would be great if you don’t mind looking into him.
She’s done me a favor by pretending I mentioned her mom in my message, not her.