Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“When then?”
“Surprise me. I’m not short of morning wood, and you’re not short of waking up way too damn early.”
Ten minutes later, we were already up on our feet and dressed. The space between my thighs was still throbbing and pulsating.
“Grab the gear. We’re outta here,” Riggs said, heading out through the laundry room like he hadn’t just served me with the best oral sex of my life.
I followed him, watching his muscular back and his lithe movements. Guess we were back to being an employer and an employee.
“Poppins?” he asked, his back still to me.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not in touch with Gretchen. Haven’t been since that day in her office. Stopped taking her calls.”
“How come?” My heart beat so hard I could swear it was bruised and mangled in my chest.
Riggs didn’t turn to look at me or break his stride. “Nobody says things like that to my wife and keeps their teeth to repeat them.” He pulled the door open for me. “Since they cost a fortune at the dentist, I spared her teeth, but I’m done picking up her calls.”
Undiluted pride filled my chest, spreading to other organs in my body. Or maybe it wasn’t pride. Maybe it was something much more dangerous.
Something that I didn’t want to think about.
Something I had never felt in my entire life.
By the time we got back into the city, it was already late in the evening. The sun hung low, grazing the skyscrapers.
Riggs and I lazed to our front door. I was exhausted. I couldn’t remember the last time my limbs had felt so deliciously sore.
“Please tell me you’re too pooped to make a salad smoothie or whatever and that we can just order in.” He pushed the door open for me with his shoulder.
I sighed. “You’re a bad influence.”
“The good one is boring, so don’t pretend like you aren’t having fun.”
We took the stairs up side by side, even though the stairway was narrow. He slowed down to my pace.
“Fine,” I bit out. “As long as it’s Thai.”
“Fuck Thai.” He took his equipment from me, probably realizing I was about to drop and break it. “We had that last week. Let’s try the kebab shop down the street.”
“I don’t eat kebab,” I informed him. “Or any other fatty meat.”
“But you just said earlier you wanted to blow me.”
I swatted his shoulder on autopilot. We had routines now. That was terrifying. Riggs laughed, but when we rounded the stairway to our floor, the laughter died in his throat. We both halted. Charlie was in the hallway, trying to pick a lock.
Our lock.
“Charlie?” I frowned. “You all right, mate?”
“Yeah . . . yeah . . .” Charlie—big, tall, handsome, movie-star-look-alike Charlie—spun slowly on his heel, looking left and right. More than anything, looking confused. “I’m just . . . I think I forgot my key?”
“And your door,” Riggs muttered under his breath. Aloud, he said, “Let’s track your last steps. Where’d you come from just now?”
“The diner, I think.” Charlie grimaced. “Or was it yesterday?”
Riggs and I turned to each other. What was going on? Charlie didn’t look drunk and didn’t smell drunk. This seemed more like an episode of sorts.
“Charlie . . . ,” I said softly, stepping forward. “I think you’ve got the wrong door.”
He whipped his head toward my door and scratched his head. “Huh. Right. Mine says twenty-four, not twenty-two.”
“We can call a locksmith,” I suggested.
“I don’t have anything on me,” Charlie said, patting his front pockets. “No ID, no wallet . . .”
My gaze instinctively dropped down to said pockets, and I let out a gasp, slapping my mouth. There was a large, round stain around his groin area. He’d soiled himself. This vital, handsome grown man, who wasn’t intoxicated or impaired in any way I could see, had peed himself.
Riggs must’ve seen the same thing, because he made his way toward us quickly, inserting himself as a buffer between Charlie and me, like the sweet man could ever hurt me.
“Why don’t you head inside, Poppins? I’ll join you in a second.”
My eyes snapped from Charlie’s pants to my husband. My mouth was still agape.
“I . . . I . . . he said he doesn’t have any docs on him. No wallet. A locksmith won’t open the door for him.”
“I’m not calling a locksmith,” Riggs said dryly.
Was he going to break into Charlie’s flat? That was a terrible idea. Charlie was renting, like me.
“Riggs, you can’t—” I started, then saw the resolute look on his face. My shoulders sagged. “I’ll be inside.”
“Thank you,” they both said, in harmony.
Same tone. Same voice. Same low rumble.
I turned to look at them again, blinking. And suddenly, I saw something very horrible and potentially very destructive. And also improbable.
You’ve watched too many soap operas. Stars do not align this way in real life. Only this wouldn’t be a case of stars aligning. More like a supernova full of explosions and multiple casualties.