Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“And you break cameras when they take pictures you don’t allow.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “That, too.”
“Do you beat people up?”
He gives me a sidelong glance that he somehow makes sexy. “Do I need to?”
Zing.
Why, why, why does that turn me on.
My cheeks flush. “I don’t… well I… no?”
He shakes his head. “No, baby. I don’t go around beating people up.” Then he sobers. It’s like a shade comes down over his eyes. Even his voice goes sterner. “But if anyone ever hurt you or Toni, I make no promises.”
Shiver.
I believe that. Should that frighten me? Because it doesn’t. Instead—
“Is giving your boyfriend a blow job in the car illegal?”
He jerks the wheel so hard he almost loses control.
“Jesus, baby.”
“Is it?”
“While he’s driving? Probably. Do I care? Definitely not.”
“Okay, then maybe pull over.”
He does, and after making sure there are no fucking paparazzi for miles in any direction, I give him a blow job that makes him scream my name and damn near rip my hair out by its roots.
Worth. It.
I wipe my hand across my mouth, pretty damn pleased with myself, and perch back in my seat. He buckles me in, kisses my shoulder, and promises he’ll make me scream his name later tonight.
“So what was that for?” he asks, and I don’t miss how the worry lines have eased on his brow, or the way he keeps his hand on me when we resume our journey.
“Because never in my life have I been with a guy willing to beat someone up over me, I love how dedicated you are to Toni, and…” my voice trails off.
“And?”
“I love doing that for you.”
He curses reverently under his breath. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you, Samantha.”
That gives me a warm-all-over tingle.
Now we have a job to do.
Chapter 18
Miguel
I love Cape Cod. Always have, always will. Coastal village meets small town, and it’s perfect. Small mom-and-pop stores, weather-worn restaurants serving the freshest fried fish and lobster, white sand beaches. It’s cool in April, so the tourists haven’t arrived yet. It’s one of my favorite times of the year to come.
“You know what I don’t understand,” Samantha says, her feet propped up on the dash as we near our hotel. I glance at her glossy red toenails and remember how she curled those toes the last time I brought her to orgasm.
“You’re thinking of sex again,” she teases, pursing her lips.
“I’m driving and glanced at your toes.”
She shakes her head and clucks her tongue. “Riiiight.”
She can see right through me.
“Maybe I was remembering the last time you curled those pretty toes for me when I made you come.”
“I knew it,” she says, but her voice is thicker, and if I know her, she’s replaying those moments as well. “But don’t go on about it, you’ll make me lose my train of thought.”
“Alright, then. Tell me what you were going to. What don’t you understand?” I reach my hand to her leg and give her a gentle stroke. She moans, her head falling back on the seat.
Yep. Knew it. I’m not the only one hyper-focused on getting her alone again.
“Why such a short drive seems so long when sitting next to a guy like you,” she breathes. Then she clears her throat and shakes her head. “No. Nope. Newp. I can’t get all sex-addled again.”
“Sex-addled? Really, baby?” I love it when she gets sex-addled. And why does her adorable dorky word choice turn me on?
“Yup. I mean nope. I need to keep my head on straight. I need to focus. Which brings me back to what I don't understand."
I nod. “Go on.”
“First, why is it that local law enforcement never went looking for Toni’s mom? Why did they just yank Toni out of her house and slap her down with you. Like… did they even question where she went? Did they even try to prosecute the woman for abandoning her child?”
“Those are good fucking questions.”
She works her lip. “And makes me wonder if there isn’t more at play.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Corruption? A larger power player behind all this? Hopefully, we’ll find out more on this little jaunt.”
“Agreed.”
“And furthermore,” she says, wagging her index finger in the general direction of the horizon in front of us, “which gender is superior?”
I stifle a smirk. She loves to throw me these curveballs, to hear my unfettered opinion on controversial subjects. It's one of the funnest things we do, honestly. Some people might think she's a dork. Most people would think I am. But I love this about her. I don't sugarcoat my opinion, and neither does she. We've gotten into some really good debates by this point.
“Which gender is superior,” I mumble to myself. “Is this a trick question?”
“You can’t buy time by repeating the question, Miguel,” she scolds, sitting up straighter. “Let’s hear it.”