Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Keeping my gaze locked on hers, I lean in the doorway and nod casually to the left. “T-shirts are over there.”
She swallows and eyes me uncertainly, but since I’m telling her where to find clothes instead of ripping the only fabric covering her away, I guess she decides to risk turning her back to me.
I watch as she nods gently, then walks more quickly than she needs to over to the rack of T-shirts hanging up. “Are there any you don’t want me to wear?”
Her voice is uneasy, but she’s trying to mask it. She’s not a great actress.
That’s all right. I don’t need her to perform for me.
I push off the doorjamb and join her in the closet. I can tell by the set of her shoulders she’s tense, but she keeps her back to me as if by the sheer force of pretending she doesn’t suspect me of being untrustworthy, she can make it true.
It’s as good a strategy as any, I suppose. She knows she doesn’t stand a chance fighting me.
I know I shouldn’t even consider giving her a reason to fight me, but I can’t seem to find it in me to care. She’s been triggering something dark and ugly hidden away deep inside me since I first fucking met her, something that makes me want to chase her around.
And right now, she’s alone with me in my apartment and nobody who isn’t loyal to me knows where she is. She’s wearing a fucking bath towel and dependent on me to keep her safe and provide for her.
I don’t mind doing it, but I want the perks that come along with that responsibility.
She sucks in a breath when my hand settles on her hip, but she keeps her back to me. I pull her back ever so slightly, bringing her body close enough that her towel touches my bare torso.
Then she swallows uncertainly, and my gaze jumps to her neck. It’s covered by her mass of wet hair, but I want to see it, so I gather her hair and push it off to one side.
She grabs a hanger off the rack, refusing to acknowledge my touching her. “Is this one okay?” she asks, but her voice trembles ever so slightly, betraying her true feelings.
She can play pretend all she wants, but there’s not a shot in hell I’m letting her get a shirt on. I think she knows it, so I don’t bother giving her an answer.
Just in case she resists, my grip on her hip tightens. I slide my other hand around her body and find the edge of the towel, but she quickly drops the T-shirt and pushes my hand away before I can unwrap it.
She sucks in a breath, ready to fight me, but I don’t make any sudden movements to set her off. Instead, my tone light and voice low, I tell her, “Looks like you dropped your shirt. Wanna bend over and pick it up?”
“No,” she says warily, her grip on the towel tightening where she’s holding it together.
As if we’re on the same page, I tell her, “I agree. You’ll sleep better without clothes on.”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”
I smile faintly at her tone. A little annoyed, a little indulgent.
She likes me, she just isn’t prepared to admit it.
“You ever sleep naked?”
“I do not,” she says firmly.
“Ever thought about it?”
“Nope.”
“You should try it. The sheets feel nice against your bare skin.”
“I’ll keep your suggestion in mind,” she says, a hint of lightness blending in with her a caution.
I think I already know the answer to my next question, but I ask anyway. “You ever spent the night with a guy before?”
Her voice is soft, but adamant. “No.”
Since I’m talking to her instead of pouncing on her, her guard is tentatively low enough that when I slide my hand back up her torso, this time, she doesn’t immediately react. She keeps her tight grip on the top of the towel, but as I lightly skim her stomach and slowly draw my hand higher, she waits to see what I’m going to do.
“I want you naked in my bed tonight, Brynn.”
Her head starts to shake, so I’m not surprised when she says, “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
“The virgin thing?” I ask.
Silence greets me, but she swallows; I take it as a yes.
“What if I promise not to fuck you?” I ask softly, hearing her sharp inhale. I don’t know if it’s in response to my words or the nearness of my fingers as they drag along the material covering her tits, but something is making her skin flush. I don’t think it’s lingering redness from her hot shower. “I won’t lie, I’d like to. I told you I didn’t grab you a shirt while you were showering because I was texting my friends, and that was half true, but I spent the other half of the time transfixed by the pretty little songbird on the other side of the wall.”