Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
He knows how to be romantic, doesn’t he? I swallow hard against both the arousal and revulsion his words inspire. “I’m glad your memory is better than mine. All I remember is pain and suffering.”
He plucks the sunglasses from my face, then reaches into his pocket to pull out something. A moment later, he replaces them with my actual glasses, the ones he took last night. "Suffering and pain? There might have been pain in the beginning, but that can’t be helped. I don’t remember you complaining, though, when I made you come so hard you saw stars.”
“We can agree to disagree, then.”
He smirks. “I like this better. I want to see your eyes."
I lean away and adjust the glasses better. What an asshole, bringing up the orgasm I had at his hands. I don’t want to be reminded of that, even if I’ve never experienced something as toe-curling as that. I’d never orgasmed like that before, not by my own hands. Now that I can see, like for real, I think it’s time for me to leave. I exit the bedroom and enter the suite, grabbing my ready-to-go backpack off the floor.
"Bel?" Drew calls from the room.
Nope. I’m not doing this with him. The next thing I know, he’ll have me on the bed in my room. Wasting no time and wanting to piss him off a little, I grab the sack he left on the table and rush out the door. I flick the lock into place before slamming the door and then race down the hall at a dead sprint. Let him look through my things. He won’t find anything, especially since there’s nothing to find. I can only hope he’ll get bored and realize what a mistake he made in choosing to torment me.
By the time I make it to my car, I’m out of breath. I climb in and sag against the seat, locking the doors just to be safe. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I remind myself that I’m safe as I scan my surroundings. There’s no sign of Mr. Psycho.
Thank god. I let out a sigh and cautiously open the bag he brought. I can only imagine the contents. Unfortunately, it’s nothing good. Inside are some protein bars, my discarded clothing, the Plan B he promised, as well as the birth control pills he wants me to take, and a slip of paper. I could refuse to take the birth control pills, but then I’d end up in a worse scenario. Fuck. I drag my attention to the paper. It’s folded, making it unable to be read from inside the bag. I pull it out and unfold it slowly, my hands trembling. My mouth pops open, and I gasp. Is this real? It can’t be. Someone pinch me because I think I’m dreaming.
Printed on that paper is a ten-thousand-dollar check, and it’s made out to me.
"Oh fuck."
CHAPTER 11
DREW
She escaped again like a mouse barely missing the trap. She’s much more than I anticipated, and the challenge she provides only makes me want her more. When I return to The Mill after my shenanigans with Bel, I find Lee curled up in my bed, my covers mussed and tangled around his bare legs.
My eye twitches with annoyance. What the actual fuck? I kick the side of the bed, the edge of my boot lands close to his junk, and like a smart man, he jerks away from the edge.
“This whole, I’m quirky and wait in my friend’s beds for them to come home like a creepy asshole, might have been endearing the first time you did it, but now it’s just fucking weird.” His eyes pop open, anger shining bright in their depths before shifting to the playful playboy he shows the world. I raise an eyebrow as he rolls onto his back and stretches the length of my bed like a lazy cat.
With a roll of my eyes, I throw myself into the armchair by the empty fireplace. "Pretty sure you have a room of your own, which, in fact, has a bed. I know it. I've seen it."
Lee hums in his throat and rolls on his side, shifting my comforter between his thighs. I have to wonder if he has a death wish?
"Dude," I complain. He’s only doing this to annoy me or get some reaction out of me. Without an audience, Lee is nothing.
Instead of answering, he snuggles in deeper. "How was your night? I saw you with that nerdy little library girl. How did she do? Was the change worth it? I mean since she’s not really your type and all.”
My gaze turns cold, and slivers of my rage fracture through my expression before I can stop them. "And what, exactly, is my type?"