Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“See you tomorrow?” Sydney says.
“I’ll let you know. Be prepared to pull from my greatest hits.”
“The pudding specials. Got it. Good night, Logan.” She leaves, and I stare at him, preparing for the worst tongue-lashing ever.
“Can I just say one thing before I go?” I ask.
“No.”
Sayin’ it anyway. “It made me sick watching you pimp yourself like that.”
“You looked like you were having fun to me,” he says resentfully.
“Well, I’m not insane. Just look at you.” I wave my hand over his body. “But after the buzz wore off, I was actually a little sad watching a strong, beautiful man degrade himself like that.”
“I choose to do this.”
“Only, you already admitted you want out. And knowing that made me want something better for you.”
“I made seventeen thousand dollars today. The giveaway raffle turned out to be a success despite my recent bad PR.”
I swallow. “Seventeen?”
“Yes, and that’s money that’ll help my mother die in peace.”
“That’s a lot of cash.” I can’t imagine what I’d have to do to earn that kind of money in one day. “But does she know? Is this what your mom would want for you?”
“She doesn’t know, and she never will.”
“Except you told me you don’t lie. Why’s this any different?”
“Who the hell asked you, and how is any of this your business, Mila?”
I honestly can’t say. “I guess it’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done. I fix problems.” Every problem except my own.
“I don’t need fixing. Except for the disaster you created by telling the world I’m Carter.”
“I’m going to make things right, Logan. I promise. But I felt like someone should tell you the truth. If this isn’t what you want to do, then move on. Have faith in yourself and that everything is going to work out.”
“Who are you to give me advice?”
I take a beat, searching for the right words. “I’m the woman who quit her job today so she could help you and make things right.”
He stares deeply into my eyes, and somewhere inside I sense a small crack forming in his armor. Maybe it’s the way his eyes are softening or how his breathing slows. Maybe it’s the way his lips are twitching, just like mine are. Below the waist, of course.
Suddenly, I can’t feel my fingertips or toes. My blood is rushing to other places. I want him. I want him even if he loathes me or calls me stupid. Not because those things are even close to okay, but because I feel it with him. I just saw the worst of this man, and I can honestly say that despite putting pickles on his pecker being the kinkiest shit I’ve ever done, and that touching him was truly the highlight of my sexual journey as a woman, what I really felt was pure possessiveness.
“I didn’t want to share you when we first met, Logan. And I still feel the same.”
He frowns. “You are truly an odd woman.”
I think I’m beginning to realize it, too.
He adds, “And I don’t think I’d share you either.”
I can’t believe he said that. And now I can’t seem to catch my breath. “So where do we go from here?”
“I feel the overwhelming urge to fall in love with you.” He presses his hand to my cheek.
I melt inside. “Kiss me.”
“I’m not sure I should. We’ve both said and done too many things.”
“Do it now or say goodbye, Logan. But I have to know.”
“Know what?” he asks.
“If this is real.”
He kisses me hard, and I instantly feel swallowed up whole, but in the best kind of way—vibrations rippling over my skin, waves crashing in my stomach, and my mind spinning like a tornado. His warm lips and the taste of him on my tongue triggers a slideshow of what I’d like to do to him privately. That muscled, tanned body between my thighs. His big, beautiful cock inside me. Those hard abs, slick with sweat, gliding over my bare stomach.
I pull away.
“What’s wrong. Having second thoughts?” he asks.
“Second, third, fourth, and fifth. I’m having all the thoughts.”
“It’s because I let you put pickled cucumbers on my testicles, isn’t it?”
I’m about to tell him I’d like to put my lips there, too, when my cell rings. I take it out of my pocket. It’s Skippy.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, Mila. I went through hours of footage. Carter isn’t at Miguel’s here in Dallas.”
“What?”
“They didn’t take him back to the house,” Skippy says.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he replies.
“Then where is he?”
“I don’t know, but I heard Miguel tell his housekeeper he’d be at his farm in Miami this week.”
“Do you think that’s where they took Carter?” I ask.
“They mentioned some important business that has to be taken care of.”
Taken care of? Like killing a person and dumping the body?
The blood rushes from my face, and I look at Logan. “He thinks they’ve taken Carter to Miami.”