Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 154595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
“Only your second favorite? What’s your favorite?” he asked.
“That tight butt. It’s really your best feature.”
“Good to know.”
“I’m not sure what is the appropriate way to say I’m sorry I nearly stabbed you. I know, waffles!”
“Waffles? Really?”
“Uh, yeah. You don’t like waffles?”
He held out a hand. “Give me the knife.”
Why would she do that? “But it’s mine.”
“Girl, I am not going to have you stabbing yourself with it. Hand it over.”
“I wasn’t going to stab me. I was going to stab you. I mean, not you. I thought you were trying to grab me.”
“Do you pull a knife on everyone who calls out your name?”
It sounded crazy when he put it like that.
“I didn’t really register you saying my name, I just felt you touch my shoulder.”
That was true. She’d heard him call her name, but it hadn’t filtered through her brain that it was him.
He narrowed his gaze at her. “Knife, Maeve.”
With a sigh, she handed it over. He eyed it, running his finger lightly along the blade.
She hissed. “Careful.”
“This is sharp.”
“What would be the point in carrying around a blunt knife?” she asked. That would be just stupid, right?
He grunted and flicked the blade away. “Come on, let’s go into your apartment and you can explain how you didn’t hear me.”
She really didn’t want to do that. But she knew she didn’t have much choice. With a sigh, she let him into her room.
He studied the knife. She knew he was reading the inscription on the back.
Remember, you are strong, brave, and forever free.
“Uh, hi.” She gave him a weak smile. “So, you want some waffles?”
“You can make waffles?”
“Uh, well, I’ve got those ones you put in the toaster. Like Pop-Tarts . . . except waffles. I’m trying to branch out.”
He kept watching her. She sighed.
“Where’d you get this knife?” he asked.
“A friend.”
“Hmm. They put the inscription on the back?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly, she was exhausted and a bit light-headed. She probably needed to eat something. He set the knife on the table.
“You shouldn’t threaten something you’re not willing to go through with.”
“Who said I wouldn’t go through with it?” she challenged. She sat on a chair, putting her bags on the table.
He eyed her. “What’s wrong?”
“Just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
Reaching out, he tilted up her chin. “You eat today?”
“Of course.”
“What did you eat?”
“Ahh, some Pop-Tarts.”
“So, sugar. You need something healthy,” he scolded.
“I’ll find something.” She got to her feet, swaying slightly.
“No, you won’t. You’ll stay where you are. Or sit on the sofa.” He moved toward her cupboards.
Um, no.
“Wait, no. I can do that.”
Too late. He’d already opened one cupboard. The one that held several packets of Pop-Tarts. He sent her a censuring look.
She shrugged. So she had an addiction? Surely there were worse addictions to have, right? Although her teeth were probably starting to rot. He finally found a loaf of bread, some butter, and the slices of cheese she kept in the tiny fridge and made her a simple sandwich.
She drew the material she’d just bought out of her bag, and then stood to put it in the cupboard where she stored her supplies.
“What did I say, girl?” he said with exasperation.
“Just putting this away, and I’ve got to pee.”
Besides, she was feeling better. She put away the material, ignoring his thunderous face. She was kind of surprised he didn’t grab her and just put her where he wanted her.
She used the toilet, then took a moment to chill out. Her hands were still shaking slightly and she didn’t want him to see her like this. What had she been thinking? What if she’d actually hurt him?
“Damn it, Maeve. Get yourself together,” she muttered to herself.
She leaned her hands on the counter and bent her head, taking deep breaths. She was losing it. And over what? A sensation of being watched? Some roses delivered to the wrong house? Giant rats?
Yeah, she was definitely losing her mind.
A knock on the bathroom door startled her and she barely managed to hold in a cry.
“Maeve, you okay?”
“Fine. Just, uh, cramps.”
Really, Maeve. Cramps?
Wait . . . if she had cramps and he’s here because he wants sex . . .
Urgh. Really shot yourself in the foot there, didn’t you, Maeve?
What a dork.
She washed her hands a second time. Then moved to the door. She wasn’t expecting him to be standing right on the other side. In fact, she figured he might already be out the door.
All he wanted was sex.
Except, he didn’t always act that way, did he? He was surprisingly protective. Although, maybe that was just who he was.
He might be a guy who always took care of those around him. She could see that.
“Cramps? Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
“Well, it’s not something you tell a guy you’re shagging.”
“Shagging?”
“Uh, yeah. I read it in this book. It means fucking, getting it on, you know, sex.”