Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
He came here to intimidate and threaten me.
But the more we stare at each other – his pale wolfish eyes glinting, pinning me in place – the more intense the fireworks shimmering across my skin become.
“Tinkerbell,” I call, almost stammering.
“Tinkerbell?” Kristian says, with a dark chuckle.
“Yeah—look.”
I turn and gesture at the hallway, expecting Tinkerbell to be standing there. I’m shocked that she isn’t already barking and making a fuss about this unexpected visitor. Usually, when people come over – whether they’re friends or strangers – she lets them know who’s boss with some preliminary barking.
I narrow my eyes at the empty hallway, searching the part of the living room I can see for any sign of her.
“Hmm, strange,” I murmur. “Tinkerbell, come here, girl. Tinkerbell?”
“Are you playing games with me, Kimberly?” Kristian snarls, stalking even closer.
His suit brushes up against my arm and I gasp. I can feel the solid mass of his muscles beneath the material. His breath whispers across my face, my forehead, my hair.
He moves closer still, and then he’s pushed right up against me.
For a crazy second, I think I can feel the solid mass of his manhood against my belly, but I must be imagining that.
Maybe it’s his phone or something. It’s not as if I have much experience in that area.
“I need to find her,” I say, walking toward the living room.
“Sure,” Kristian says. His voice is full of irony like he doesn’t believe that the dog is real. “Why don’t I help?”
I freeze and glance at him, heart pounding, throat getting tight.
“Are you going to hurt me, Mr. Cameno?” I murmur.
He flinches like I’ve slapped him.
“No,” he snarls. “Only scumbags hurt women. Jesus.”
“Well, excuse me for asking the question,” I snap. “You’re the seven-foot giant who’s come in here asking about drugs. What the heck am I supposed to think, huh?”
“Are you always this feisty?” he smirks.
“Maybe you just bring it out in me,” I snap.
I walk deeper into the apartment, scanning the small living room and then walking toward Jackie’s bedroom door. She’s left it ajar and I’m hoping that Tinkerbell has found her way in there. My belly swirls and becomes taut when I think about something happening to her. She’s had too much of an eventful day as it is.
Kristian follows me across the room, his presence flooding my mind with a thousand things that could never happen.
I stop at Jackie’s threshold, letting out a sigh of relief.
Tinkerbell is curled up on the bed with her chin resting on a chicken treat, her eyes closed, sleeping peacefully. She must’ve hidden one in here a while ago – it’s got little pieces of fluff sticking to it – so that she could pull it out later when she’s stressed or hungry.
“See,” I whisper, gesturing into the room.
Kristian stands over me, leaning forward. He’s so close I could turn and kiss him if I suddenly turned insane. My nipples tingle at the proximity of him, my skin burning.
“So you have a dog,” he says. “That doesn’t prove your point.”
I huff and pace away from the bedroom, not wanting to disturb Tinkerbell. I walk to the front door and gesture meaningfully at it.
Kristian folds his arms and leans against the wall, watching me the same way someone might watch a pet who’s just done a new trick. That should send waves of fury flaring through me, but instead, I find myself wanting to perform for him.
I imagine him leaning like that at the end of my bed, his eyes fixated on me, captivated.
“You’re going to do what I say, when I say it,” I imagine him growling. “Now strip—slowly. I want to savor every moment.”
“Kristian,” I say.
“Yes?”
“I think you should go now.”
“We’re not done here,” he says.
“So you’re refusing to go?”
He pushes away from the wall and moves close to me. For a man of such impressive size, he moves with the fluidity of a dancer or a cage fighter. He stops a bare inch from me, staring down, his jaw tight.
“If you wanted me to go,” he snarls, “if you really wanted me to, then I’d leave. But you don’t, Kimberly. That’s the problem. Every single part of you is desperate for me to stay. You’re not exactly sure what’s happening. You’re struggling to believe that this is happening. But you want me here.”
My mouth falls open stupidly. I can’t help it.
His words are so pinpoint accurate, it’s like he’s read my mind.
I try to think of something to say – something clever, witty, sassy, anything – but all that comes out is a shivering moan.
He stares at me for a long time.
After what feels like forever, I manage to summon some words.
“I don’t … You’re a drug dealer.”
His lips twist into a grimace.
“No,” he says flatly. “I’ve never dealt drugs in my life. Nor would I. That’s why I’m here, to make sure that those drugs don’t make it to the streets.”