Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Richard Horne, if you’re up there somewhere, listening in . . . I’m so sorry you died, but please know that something good is coming of it, I think as I tap at my keyboard. And also, what’s the deal with the heavy metals? Can I get a hint?
Hmm, maybe Zoey’s talking to dead people is wearing off on me too. I grin, and Zoey looks over. “What is it?”
“Just mentally thinking you’re rubbing off on me,” I admit. “I was just talking in my head to ol’ Dick Horne.”
“Ah,” Zoey says, and I feel her warm a bit more. She gets it. If it works, it works.
“What about his medical records? Do you have those to compare to? That would tell us if the metal exposure was recent or a long time ago,” I ask.
Zoey shakes her head. “No. I don’t get that info because it could create bias. Unless the investigating sheriff wants my input on it. I bet Jeff didn’t even request it.”
“I can,” I assure her.
“Uh, there’re these little things called privacy laws,” Zoey says, and I chuckle. “What?”
“Life insurance, Zoey. When you sign up, you agree to a full waiver that your insurance company gets any and all medical records that would be relevant to your coverage, benefits, and claims.”
“Ah,” she says, seeing the reasoning behind it. “Okay, so if we can get those records, I can compare. That would let us know when we’re looking for something, even if we don’t know what we’re looking for yet.”
“I’ll do that tomorrow and see if I can put a rush order on it so we can get some answers before the Widow Horne gets her panties in a bunch again.”
With a plan in place, I can see Zoey psyching herself up to leave. That’s why she came here, after all. The rest was unplanned and spontaneous, and awesome.
“I guess I should go?” It’s a question, showing her hand that she’s not as interested in running as she thinks she is.
“Or you could stay?” I offer, knowing she won’t.
“I can’t. I should get home . . . to Jacob, I mean,” she says, stumbling to find an excuse. Even though I’m pretty sure her . . . family member, I guess . . . would totally understand.
“I understand. I’ve got to be up at sunrise anyway. Running with Trey,” I reply. It’s a weak excuse, honestly. I would skip every run, every morning for the rest of my life if it meant waking up with Zoey in my bed, and Trey would absolutely agree that it’s a good trade-off. He’d give me shit for going lazy and soft too, but he’d understand.
But there’s a time to let pressure build and a time to let it off. And right now, Zoey needs to have that safety valve. She stands, and I stand with her, taking her hand in mine. I trace a line on the back of it with my thumb.
“Tonight was . . .” I search for a word that will describe it while not scaring the shit out of her but come up empty. Gorgeous, powerful, best of my life, and I haven’t even been inside her yet . . . yeah, those have RUN written all over them for this woman.
“Incredible,” she offers, and I nod. It’s good enough.
“Definitely.” I smile, and she gives me a soft, sweet one back. “I’ll text you in the morning and then later, after I see what visiting the doctor nets us.”
She nods and looks up at me. I bend slowly to kiss her once more. It’s deep and hungry, the fire building easily, and I could take her again. I want her . . . on my fingers, on my tongue, and eventually, on my cock.
But too soon, she pulls back from me, her hands crinkling my shirt.
“I should go.”
I nod and walk her to the door. I manage to give her one more sweet peck and whisper, “Till tomorrow.”
She leaves and I watch her walk down to her car before I shut the door, and true to my word, I whirl and lean up against the wood. I should wait until she’s actually pulled away, but I can’t hold back any longer. My cock’s already in my hand and I’m jerking furiously as I remember what she felt like . . . sounded like . . . tasted like.
It only takes a few strokes, and I come on my hand, grunting out her name to the empty room. I’m still rock-hard, could go again and again with my thoughts of Zoey, but as I sag against the door, I hear quiet footsteps on the walk out front and then a car door.
She came back.
She listened.
She heard me.
I should be embarrassed or afraid it’ll scare her off.
Instead, I think I’m a little closer to breaking down her walls, and I give myself one more stroke.