Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“Mrrrar.” Gretel twines her body around the legs of Jigsaw’s stool, then mine.
“Hey, girl.” Jigsaw leans down and scoops Gretel into one hand, lifting her into his lap. “I was wondering when you might make an appearance.”
I’m so charmed by the way he lets her rub herself all over his chin and the gentle way he pets her, I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t allow her near the kitchen counters. As if she senses me watching, she ignores our plates and the counter, and curls up in Jigsaw’s lap instead.
“She really likes you,” I say.
He smiles and keeps petting her.
Maybe it’s a good thing she distracted us from the heavy conversation. I reach over and rub behind her ear and scratch her chin.
After a few minutes, Gretel’s had her quota of affection. She hops off Jigsaw’s lap onto the floor, meows at us, and saunters away.
Jigsaw’s shaking with laughter. “She has a lot of personality packed into such a tiny body.”
“She does.”
He reaches over, settling his hand on my bare knee. “Hey, thanks for listening. I didn’t mean to get too heavy.”
I slide my fingers over his knuckles. Large hands—scarred and rough—that aren’t afraid to get dirty or defend himself, but are also so gentle when he touches me. “It’s okay. I want to know more about you.” My voice breaks a little. “I hate that you suffered so much as a child, though.” I don’t want him to think I feel sorry for him. If anything, I admire the strength it took to become the opposite of what his father was.
His expression softens and he gently squeezes my leg before removing his hand. “I don’t talk about it much. It’s over. Seems pointless to dwell on the past.”
“I can understand that.” It’s more than that, though. The reasons he “doesn’t do relationships” seem clearer now. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s carefully built walls around himself.
I’m lucky he let me have a glimpse inside.
And wonder if he’ll ever allow more than that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Jigsaw
Unease curls in my stomach. I revealed an awful lot to Margot while we had dinner. Things I’ve never told another woman. She deals with enough grief and sadness. I shouldn’t dump my ancient baggage on her.
She slides off her stool and presses the softest kiss against my cheek. “Are you still hungry?” She nods to the glass dish still half-full of baked pasta.
I could probably finish the whole thing, but I don’t want to eat all of her food. “I’m good.”
“I only have fruit for dessert.” She lifts her chin toward a bowl on the counter full of red apples and a few ripening bananas.
“You mind if I run downstairs and grab my stuff?” I don’t want her to think I’m trying to move in, but I’d like to get my toothbrush and a couple other items.
She grabs our plates. “Not at all.”
“I’ll help you with that.” I stand and try to take the plates from her hands.
“I’ve got it. Go get your things.” She points toward the hallway. “The laundry’s right next to the bathroom. Wash whatever you want.”
I lean down and press a quick kiss to her forehead. “Be right back.”
Am I really doing this? Staying over at a woman’s place? Wanting to stay. It’s not because Rooster’s still in Tennessee and the house will be empty. If I’m lonely, I could go to the clubhouse and hang with the guys who came back with me. If I just need a warm body to fuck, I can easily ride down to Crystal Ball and sweet-talk one of the dancers into spending the night with me at the clubhouse next door.
But I specifically want to be here. In a house I find a little bit creepy, with a woman I can’t seem to get enough of.
By the time I return, she’s cleaned the kitchen. She’s bending over, sliding something into the fridge. Now that one hunger’s been satisfied, another appears with a vengeance.
I drop my bag by the door and stride into the kitchen. She closes the fridge at the same time I reach her. I grip her hips and pull her to me.
“Miss me?” I breathe against her neck.
A soft, gasping laugh flows past her lips. “I did.”
Sliding my hands from her hips to the buttons of her shirt, I quickly work them loose, pleased she didn’t bother putting anything else on underneath. She leans against me, bracing her hands on my thighs and arching her back, giving me better access to the buttons.
“You don’t mind me stripping you down in the kitchen, right?”
She shakes her head.
“Good.” I cup one breast, lightly pinching her nipple. “Are you game for another lesson?”
“Yes.”
I drag the shirt down her arms and toss it on the counter. “Come here.” Grabbing her by the hips again, I push her closer to the counter. “Brace your hands against the edge.”