Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
A twinkle lit his eyes, but he didn’t smile.
He probably couldn’t, because there was dried mud hardening on his face, due to the struggle he’d undergone putting Pierre into the bed of his truck. It was a miracle Chloe hadn’t peed her pants on the way home, because though they’d secured Pierre to the truck with his leash and driven five miles per hour down busy Boston streets while horns wailed, Pierre still managed to lose his balance, plop, and roll several times, making Chloe cry out in concern and laugh her head off in equal measure.
“Come on, let’s put him in the bathtub,” she wheezed, staggering down the hallway of the apartment and falling to her knees in front of the tub, turning the tap to warm. “I’m not thinking about the mess this is going to leave behind. That’s a later problem.”
“I’ll help you.” Sig unhooked the removable showerhead and started rinsing mud and sludge from the bulldog right away. “Let’s just get this behemoth clean.”
The word “behemoth” spoken through gritted teeth caused Chloe to shake with mirth. “If you think about it, he saved us from that brawl,” she said over the sound of pelting water. “I think he knew exactly what he was doing. Didn’t you, thoughtful boy?”
Pierre glared at her, one tooth poking up from his bottom lip.
“Hate to break it to you, but this dog doesn’t have a single thought in his head, Chlo.” He hunkered down beside her on the tile floor so he could spray Pierre’s undercoat. “He eats and shits and causes trouble.”
Chloe bumped him in the shoulder with her own. “Is this the kind of daddy you’d be? The kind who complains about having to hose dirt and Cheerios off a toddler?”
“Nah.” He seemed to get distracted by her face, his attention falling to her mouth. “If we made a baby, I’d live for every second.”
Her heart dropped to her knees. “You’ve been talking about making babies a lot lately.”
Was it her imagination or had he leaned closer? Was that his breath on her lips? “I’ve been thinking about it a lot longer than I’ve been talking about it.”
“Sig.”
“You brought it up.”
“Yes, I did. Sorry.”
Chest rumbling, he tore his gaze off her. “How is practice going?”
“Good,” Chloe said, feeling dazed from being blasted by so much intensity only to have it taken away . . . and struggling with the need to get it back. In an effort to distract herself, she looked down at her fingers, running the pad of her thumb across the blister that had formed yesterday on her middle finger. “I’m working as hard as I can. I’m grateful for the work, even if it’s grueling. The harder the better, actually. When I get into the zone . . .”
“You don’t have to think.”
“Yes.”
His throat worked. “I know, baby. I’m doing the same.”
Chloe dug her nails into her palms to prevent herself from crawling into his lap, clinging to him, absorbing his heat. “Have they offered you a contract yet?”
“I have a meeting with Reese tomorrow. Could be it.”
Her face lit up. “I hope so.”
“Yeah? I don’t feel a fucking thing anymore.”
Pulses started clamoring in her neck, wrists, and chest. “Sig.”
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his knuckles turning white around the shower nozzle. “It’s painful to be this close to you.”
Chloe didn’t know what to say. What to do. On some level, she’d entertained the hope that they could stay friends. Authentic ones this time. But that obviously wouldn’t be the case. Because she couldn’t pretend, either, that she didn’t ache to be held by him, feel his hands skim her flesh, while his mouth fastened to her lips, her breasts. She’d have to completely let him go, wouldn’t she? They’d never had a chance to be anything but . . .
Apart.
“I’ll go see if I can find you a big T-shirt to wear,” she said, standing on legs made of gelatin. Trying and failing to ignore the way his eyes ran their full length, darkened when they reached the juncture of her thighs, his jaw popping. “Yours is covered in mud.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, I’ll find something,” she breathed, nearly tripping over the threshold saddle to escape the tension in the bathroom. Her options were to get away from it or run headfirst into it. Once inside her bedroom, she stripped off her sweatshirt, which was streaked in brown and probably needed delousing, hurriedly searching through her drawers to locate a shirt for herself, as well as Sig. Her heartbeat was booming in her ears, hands clumsy. Of course, they were. She was separated by a wall from the man who ruled her senses.
The riot taking place throughout Chloe’s body and the concerted effort she put toward ignoring it were a distraction. And probably why she only realized absently the water had been turned off in the bathroom. But when the hair raised on her arms and the back of her neck, she knew he was there. Standing in the doorway of her bedroom with his shoulder propped against the jamb, hunger running rampant across his features.