Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Don’t worry, I have no plans to fuck you.” She might have no plans but then, having actual plans was certainly different than having fantasies. She couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t have the second. “All right, I need to shower and change. We can discuss the sleeping arrangements in more detail afterward.”
“Ain’t havin’ no discussion. Wanna sleep in this fuckin’ room, then you sleep in the bed next to me.”
She set her jaw. “That ain’t gonna fucking happen.” No better time to slip into her tough biker chick persona.
“Then your room’s across the fuckin’ hall, Kitten.”
After her shower, she debated coming out of the bedroom wearing the stuff she would normally wear at home.
She finally decided, since they were now living together, she would have to deal with it and so would he. Plus, she had no doubt Fletch—or Ghost—would be dressing the way he did at home, too. Especially after seeing how he was dressed when she arrived. They might end up sharing this apartment for months and they were supposed to be acting like a real couple. Except for the separate rooms, separate beds and the no sex part, anyway.
Expecting crude comments, she stepped into the living room only wearing a tank top and women’s boxer briefs. She was all about comfort when she was kicking up her feet at home to shed the stress from her job. When she had the opportunity, she caught up on her favorite shows or curled up with her iPad and a beer to read the latest book from her favorite authors.
However, tonight she would have company. And she wouldn’t be watching TV or reading, she’d be working.
They needed to get to know each other and figure out everything about their new personas in the next day or so, so whenever they slipped in among the DAMC, they didn’t stand out like sore thumbs. They needed to be both knowledgeable and comfortable in their new skins, as well as with each other.
However, it was late, she was tired and her bed was calling her name.
She stifled a yawn as she rounded the couch and heard from the kitchen, “Beer?”
“Sure. As long as it isn’t IC Light.”
She heard a gag and the fridge door shut. “Fuck no. I’ve got better taste than that.”
“Just so you know, saying that doesn’t make it true.” She plopped her ass in the corner of the couch and curled her legs under her, deciding she’d give him an hour before calling it a night.
The sound of metal caps being tossed on the counter, instead of into the garbage, hit her ears next. Of course. The trash can could be directly in a man’s face and it was still too much effort to throw something away.
When he casually walked into the living room with two open beer bottles hanging from between his fingers and approached her, she couldn’t miss what he was now wearing. Or what he wasn’t wearing.
He’d changed out of his jeans into loose, gray nylon shorts that almost came to his knees. When he stopped in front of her and handed her a beer, his crotch was at eye level.
“Do you have underwear on?” She snagged the bottle from him and did her best to keep her eyes above his waist. Unfortunately, she was failing.
His brown eyes raked over her. “Do you?”
She plucked at her boxer briefs. “I’m wearing them. It’s obvious you’re not.”
“At home I like to swing free.” His lips twitched before he put the beer bottle to them and took a long pull.
Obviously. “Is there any way to talk you into not going commando while we live together?”
“Hard to resist, huh?”
“Don’t worry, I have enough control to resist.” But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be distracted.
He pursed his lips. “I’ll consider your request.” He settled in the recliner with a groan. “But look, we’re now partners for however long this lasts.” He tipped his beer bottle toward her. “Know what you’re wearin’ ain’t shorts. And obviously, you ain’t wearin’ a bra…”
Probably because her nipples decided to pucker up and blow him a kiss at the sight of him swinging wild and free like a monkey in the trees.
“So… How ‘bout if we make a deal to learn to live with each other the way that’s most comfortable for us both. Anyway, I’m assumin’ that motherfucker Russo didn’t go to bed in a suit.” Before Nova could respond, he shook his head. “Sorry. Gonna try not to mention him again.”
“I’m only going to say this once. You assume a lot of shit with that assignment when you don’t have all the facts. And you know what happens when one assumes…” She didn’t bother to finish since he should know the rest of the saying.
He tipped his head. “That I do. But if you wanna share any stories when it comes to La Cosa Nostra, I’d love to hear them.”