Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
“Damn right I will. Let’s go.”
“Okay. My boots are in my car. Um… sneakers are in my suitcase, though.”
“Grab your sneakers. We’ll take my truck.”
17
Mason
Some men in my position might think she’s using this as a vehicle to try to get me to take her home so she can get away from me. But everything about her right now reads as genuine. This connection I have with her is helpful, like seeing into her head – though I can’t quite read her like a book – not yet. Her emotions have been coming at me since we mated, but right now, they’re loud. She’s upset; she needs support. And she has it.
I’ve grabbed a clean shirt and pair of jeans from my laundry room downstairs, where I hid her keys along with my keys. Despite feeling her emotions right now and knowing this isn’t just a ploy, she’s not getting her car keys back. Not yet.
***
“Where are we headed?” I ask, starting the truck.
She mutters an address, telling me which highway exit to turn off at, then tries dialing on her phone.
“Bullshit,” she mutters because the phone isn’t working.
Twenty minutes into the drive, she’s still trying to make her phone work, but she asks, “Can I try your phone?”
“Forgot it,” I answer. “What are we goin’ to do? Are we picking up your stuff?”
“I’m just… ending it. I’ll figure that stuff out later. This is… it’s just bullshit. I’m just… I can’t believe I’ve been so blind.”
“What do you mean?”
“Forget it. I don’t wanna talk about him. We’ll go there, I’m ending it, and then you can take me to my mom’s.”
“Baby, I’m not dropping you off at your mother’s. You’re comin’ back home with me.”
Her gaze swings to me and though she says nothing, she pauses for a moment, then nods. “I’ll end it with him, at least tell my mom I’m okay, and then I’ll come back with you tonight. Tomorrow, you take me to see my sister. And then once I know she’s okay, we’ll go find out how to undo the voodoo so we can get on with our lives.”
I roll my eyes. “Nothing’s gettin’ undone, Amie.”
“I can’t argue with you about this right now, Doggo. I need to go end my engagement and it’s taking all my energy to focus on that. After that, I have to cancel a wedding with hundreds of guests, and… and…”
“One thing at a time. At least that one thing is something I can get behind. But, baby, there’s no point in you trying to sever our connection. I’m telling you right now, it isn’t happening.”
“I can’t think about this right now.”
“Fine, but hear me, all right? You’re mine. I’m yours, and you’ve got me. Okay? I know you’re overwhelmed, but whatever I can do to help, you’ve got me. You only have to ask.”
We’re stopped at lights, about to get on the highway when she pulls the tie out of her hair, and it tumbles around her shoulders.
And I wanna wrap my fingers into those strands and put my mouth on her. So, that’s what I do.
“Amelia. You’ve got me. Okay?” I repeat, leaning over and touching her mouth with mine.
I’ve caught her off guard, so it takes a second for her to react. But when she does, she’s kissing me back. She’s responding like she’s ready to climb onto my lap and take my cock right here. And this doesn’t feel like it’s just a lust reaction; it feels like my words matter to her, too.
A horn blares behind us. The light probably turned green more than a few seconds ago by the way they’re leaning on it.
I lick my lips, savoring the taste of my woman, shooting her a grin, before turning my eyes to the road and hitting the gas. It’ll be good when this shit is off her to-do list. And not only can she speak to her mother and take that concern off her radar, but it’ll also give me the opportunity to assess the woman and make sure we’re not gonna have to worry about confidentiality.
Then I’ll take my girl home, fuck her to sleep, and tomorrow’s a new day. A new day with nothing to worry about but getting to know one another.
***
We’ve been on the road just over two and a half hours when I park on a street filled with identical white brick rowhouses.
These places have all got the identical front shrubs and one tree smack dab in the middle of each miniscule lawn. It’s assembly-line housing. Undoubtedly overpriced. Ordinary. Little to no craftsmanship. This kind of architecture makes me yawn. And neighbors on top of you? No fucking thank you.
She opens an app on her phone and looks confused as she scrolls.
“What?” she mumbles, tapping a command. A garage door across the street from where we’re parked opens. She stares into the empty garage.