Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
He could have just been smart enough not to leave any traces out where anyone could see them.
Scooting his chair back, I sat down to open the drawers of his desk, rifling through the mixed contents. Rubber bands, pens, about a dozen different Alan wrenches which were probably from furniture assembly jobs some of the residents had talked him into, old sticky notes with the font completely faded, some pennies, a couple cans of WD-40.
But there, way at the back of the second drawer, I found it.
The little credit card key that matched the one Cam had given to me to use to get into Miranda’s apartment.
The thing was, it was quite literally covered in dust, so much so that I left fingerprints on it when I picked it up.
There was no way it had been used recently.
Sighing, I tucked it into my pocket.
Guilty or not, Miranda thought he was a creep, and creeps didn’t deserve access to her apartment.
Swirling in my chair, I let out a deep sigh.
If it wasn’t the super, then who?
The doorman?
It was an avenue worth looking into.
He did, clearly, use his key. Often. Bringing her dry cleaning and packages up.
But he was an older guy. Married, judging by the ring on his finger. A man who’d worked at the building for years.
He saw Miranda daily.
Why would he just… all of a sudden decide to attack her?
Especially when there seemed to be no other motive aside from the attempted murder.
If there had been a sexual assault component to it, I guess I could maybe understand it. The guy who saw her daily, pining over her, wanting her, mistaking her cordiality for interest. Then one day, something just triggers him and he attacks.
I could make that scenario work in my mind.
But without that, it just didn’t make any sense.
Sighing, I climbed out of the chair, and made my way back outside, but went ahead and walked down the alley, squeezing past the dumpster, and making my way down the block, just far enough that the doorman wasn’t looking at me as I watched him.
Outwardly, he seemed to be everything that a doorman at a fancy-ass place should be.
Friendly, efficient, anticipating of needs.
“Yeah?” Sawyer asked, leaving me to try to work with that one syllable, to see if Clarke had spilled the beans to Barrett, who had in turn told Sawyer.
That said, Sawyer wasn’t the type to wait for me to call. If he was pissed at me, he’d have reached out to let me know that.
Clarke, for whatever reason, was keeping my secret.
“The super seems clean. He had her keycard, but it was so dusty that there’s no way he used it recently.”
“Damn. That was a promising angle,” he said, exhaling hard. “Okay. Well, it’s out. So what are you thinking now?”
“I’m working on the doorman angle,” I told him. “Can you run a check for me? I don’t have my laptop right now.”
“Yeah. Give me a name. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. We just got two new clients, so it might be a couple of hours.”
With that, we hung up, and I went to grab myself some lunch, hating the fact that I didn’t have anything else to work on right then to distract me from thinking about all that shit.
Her in my house.
Her in my favorite spots in the town.
Looking like she fit right in at all those places.
Then, of course, her with a little foamy cream on the tip of her nose as she let out a moan that I felt in my dick as we stood there on the street.
I don’t know what the fuck happened to my self-control at that moment, but there seemed to be nothing holding me back from grabbing her, from sealing my lips over mine, from exploring her with my lips and teeth and tongue, feeling her soft body melt into mine as I did so.
All I could think about was more.
More kissing. Down her neck, between her breasts, down her belly, between her thighs.
And the sound of her moaning urging me on as I went.
“Fuck,” I hissed as I let myself back into her apartment with my cock straining in my pants, making me feel like a goddamn horny teenager as I put my to-go drink down on the counter in the kitchen before making my way through the guest room, then into the bathroom I’d been using.
My hand worked with impatient fingers on my button and zipper before reaching in and pulling out my straining cock.
I thought about her there on her knees in front of me, her plump lips parting around my dick as I stroked myself, as I tried to purge myself of the need that was courting through my body, despite everything within me knowing that nothing was going to ease it but finally getting to fulfill the fantasy.