Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I make a face of disgust. “There goes your five-star rating.”
“That's not what most of my female guests say. What can I improve?”
The way my heart lodges in my throat is unexplainable, but I ignore it and continue staring at Levi's perfectly shaped lips.
“Boundaries, for starters. If I'm not walking around half naked, then neither should you. And keep your dog out of my room.”
I sound harsher than I mean to, but his amused expression has me wanting to knee him between the legs. Nothing I say seems to get under his skin, and that pisses me off.
His smirk tells me everything I just said has already rolled off his shoulders. “Duly noted. C'mon, Dasher. She doesn’t like us. Outside.”
I watch as the furball follows Levi out the door, neither looking back at me. There's no way I can get back to writing now, not with the images of him clouding my mind.
A few more minutes pass, and I actually feel a tad guilty for snapping. I let out a long sigh and lean back on my pillow. Levi’s trying to scale the wall of my heart, but I can’t let him. I am anti-charming men just as much as I’m anti-all things Christmas. He just happens to be the deadly combination of both.
CHAPTER SIX
LEVI
“Ready, set...go!” I throw a tennis ball as far as I can for Dasher.
He runs at full speed toward the pond.
The snow has finally stopped, but the wind still feels like sharp blades cutting against my skin. However, Dasher loves it outside and still needs his exercise.
Plus, it gives me a moment away from Fallon's delicious death glare and gorgeous face. And those lips that I so desperately want to see form a smile, preferably around my cock.
Every time I'm around her, I prepare for a verbal punch in the gut, and she hasn't disappointed me yet.
Whatever her problem is, I'm determined to find out why this holiday puts her in such a sour mood. Still, her pouting and dislike for it amuse the hell out of me. She's trying so hard to be upset, which I know isn't an ideal situation for either of us, but she's succeeded at taking it to the next level. The difference is I'm making the best out of it while I can.
Before I stepped outside, I got fully dressed and put on my winter boots. Now that I've been running around with Dasher and throwing his ball, I'm sweating.
When I finally coax Dasher to come inside, I refill his water bowl, then head upstairs to shower.
As soon as I walk into the bathroom and see Fallon soaking in my tub, I come to a stop.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Her eyes blink open as she sinks deeper under the suds. But I already saw the tops of her breasts before I spoke.
“I thought you'd be outside for longer. Just wanted to relax and warm up.”
“That costs extra. Should I add it to your tab?”
She groans with an eye-roll. “Very funny.”
I shrug, yanking my shirt over my head and kicking off my boots. Then I unbutton my jeans.
“What are you doing?” Her voice wavers as her gaze lowers down my body.
“I came to take a shower. Dasher made me chase him around the yard before he'd come to the door.”
“You can't wait until I'm done?”
“It's my house. Don't look if you're shy.”
“I'm not...” She stops herself as I lower my pants, then my boxers.
As I turn on the water, I glance over and catch her staring. She quickly averts her eyes, but I see the way she is looking.
For someone dead set on being miserable, she's not as good at acting as she thinks. I've had my fair share of women in my thirty-five years and can typically read them quite well.
Figuring out Fallon has become a fun new challenge.
“Can you at least turn around so I can get out, then?” she asks, draining the tub.
“Trust me, sweetheart. Nothing I haven't seen before.”
She scoffs as I focus on her every step. Once she wraps a towel around her, she eagerly walks out, slamming the bathroom door behind her. Chuckling to myself, I lather soap over my body, then rinse off.
Fallon opted to skip lunch by ignoring me when I knocked on her door, so by the time it's dark out, she was starving.
She looks pitiful in her triple layers of clothes even though the roaring fire has heated the entire floor. So much that I'm sweating in athletic shorts and a T-shirt.
“Do you eat chicken?” I call out from the kitchen while she sits on the couch. She found a few books in my office and has been reading next to the kerosene lamp for the past few hours.
Though, I assume out of pure boredom because they’re all historical fiction. Fallon doesn't seem like the type to read anything that isn't about modern-day fashion or celebrity memoirs.