Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“I was just speaking with one of my neighbors,” he said, briskly, already turning the knob to let himself back into the apartment. “I’ll let Mel know you’re here.”
Beat drew to a halt when he found Melody standing in the foyer, overnight bag in hand.
“Consider me informed,” she breathed, looking at his chin. Not his eyes.
Sweet hell, she looked hot. She wore a white T-shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans, and the curve of those hips belonged in a man’s hands. His. He’d squeezed them at the gym and again last night. His palms recalled the shape now, flexing at his sides. What would it feel like to grip them from the back? Or dig his thumbs into them while he used his tongue between her thighs? Because he had a lot of regrets from last night, but very, very close to the top of the list was not getting on his knees in the hallway. If last night was the only chance he’d ever get to touch Melody, he could have at least lived his life knowing what one of her orgasms tasted like.
“Are we okay to start filming?” Danielle asked, hesitantly.
“No,” Beat said.
“Yes,” Melody chimed in at the same time.
“We should talk,” he said, shaking his head at her.
“We can talk on the plane, right?”
Danielle laughed nervously. “Everything okay with you two?”
“No,” Beat growled.
Melody widened her eyes at him. “Yes.”
“Melody.”
She set down her overnight bag and slipped past him to take her coat off the rack, shrugging it on. When she couldn’t seem to locate one of the armholes, Beat stepped up behind her without thinking and helped, her gingerbread scent making him feel light-headed. “Thanks,” she murmured, walking away to retrieve her bag once again.
Everyone was silent, Joseph obviously not sure if he should start recording, trading a surreptitious glance with Danielle.
“You’re all staring at me.” Melody laughed.
Who would ever want to look anywhere else when she’s in the room?
“You seem uneasy,” Danielle pointed out, instead.
Melody expelled a breath. “Of course I am. I’m going to see my mother. At her compound. She has no idea that we’re coming, as far as we know. And I have no clue what I’m going to find when we get there. Compound could be code for cult. They could be praying to a statue of Chester Cheeto when we arrive.” She paused. “It’s not even February.”
Danielle’s phone rang. She didn’t answer it right away, the ring going off three times in the quiet apartment before she apologized and tapped the screen. “Hello?” She listened. “Okay, thank you. We’ll be there shortly.” She hung up, her gaze darting between Beat and Melody. “Our private charter came through. I didn’t think it was wise to fly commercial after last night, but it took some sweet-talking to get the network to approve it.” She pocketed her phone. “Unfortunately, we need to move. A lot of rich people are traveling at this time of year and our pilot is on a tight schedule.”
Vaguely, Beat registered what Danielle was saying, but mainly he replayed Melody’s words. How she’d said them, her anxiety and apprehension clear. Yeah, they were far from done with the Trina conversation. Today was going to be hard enough for her without him forcing her to talk about their encounter last night, however. They’d get there. But right now, all he wanted to do was relax her nerves.
He was dying to walk straight to Melody and wrap her in his arms, but holding her without resolving last night first would be too much, right? Still, he had to do something to ease her worries. After shouldering his duffel, he closed the distance between them and picked up her bag. Then he took her hand and twined their fingers together, squeezing.
Looking into her troubled eyes, he quickly replayed their conversation from last night.
“Do you need to see my Springsteen impression, Peach?”
At the very least, he’d distracted her. “Um. What?”
He raised an eyebrow.
She blinked. “I mean, who could turn an offer like that down?”
Maintaining a serious expression, Beat cleared his throat. He was a god-awful singer, but the growling was hereditary and that’s all he needed for a proper Bruce imitation. Lowering his forehead until it was an inch from hers, he drawled the opening lines to “Born to Run.”
Slowly, her entire face brightened.
Her jaw dropped, the twinkle returning to her eyes, along with the little dimple on her right cheek. Even as he stumbled over the lyrics, he’d never felt more like a hero in his life. Eventually the impact of her delight became too great and he was forced to trail off. With a cough to ease the pressure in his throat, he added, “Your mother isn’t in a Chester Cheeto cult.”
Melody’s lips twitched. “You can’t guarantee that.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I can.”