Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
I straighten the flowers in the vase and look around, making sure everything is as tidy as possible. I know two things for certain: I’m pretty sure my father hasn’t lifted a finger since I left, and all the bleach I used burned about ten layers of skin off my fingertips. On the upside, I could probably get away with murder. I look around, feeling confident someone will make an offer today during the open house. Doing a total demo would have been the better option, but I settled for bleaching, dusting, and fluffing whatever pillows didn’t have cigarette holes. I grab my information sheet for anyone with questions. “Whew, girl, you got this.”
The doorbell rings, and I whip my head up. “Showtime.” I inhale a deep breath and smooth down my skirt. “Don’t overtalk. Let the house sell itself.” I make my way to the front door and open it with a huge smile. “Hello, and welcome—what the hell are you doing here?”
Ben Wallace takes up the entire space of my front step. Unlike the last time I saw him in his work gear, today he’s dressed in a black V-neck, accentuating every muscle, and a pair of distressed jeans. Not to mention the sinful smile across his stupid sexy face. “I’m here for a tour.”
“Fat chance,” I scoff and attempt to slam the door in his face, but he stops it with his foot.
“Now, now. Other people are pulling up. You wouldn’t want to scare off any potential buyers by being unprofessional and rude, would you?”
That bastard. My eyes swing to the couple walking toward us. I can’t risk turning away possible buyers. I bring my searing gaze back to Ben. “I swear to God, if you pull anything, I will do more than tie you up and leave you for dead.”
“Ah. . . your intentions were to leave me for dead—”
“Would you be quiet?” I hiss. “Hello! Welcome. Come in and look around. There are fresh baked cookies in the kitchen.” I hand them a brochure and step aside as they enter. I turn my back to Ben, hoping he leaves, but no luck. He walks in, stopping behind me, and I pretend I don’t feel his steel pecs pressed against my back. I almost jump out of my skin when he leans in, his lips barely brushing my ear.
“Do I get a cookie?”
I clench my eyes shut, trying to keep my breathing steady. “No.” I hate his deep chuckle. I hate the little flutter that happens in my belly anytime I hear it. I hate even more that he notices his effect on me.
His warm breath skates against my earlobe “Shame.” He pulls away.
By the time I open my eyes, he’s gone. I only see his back as he disappears into the kitchen. Probably helping himself to a darn cookie. The couple walks past, and I smile. “The upstairs bedrooms are quite spacious. Perfect for children,” I say. They nod and disappear down the hall.
“Great.” I exhale and look around. There’s nothing spacious about this house. It’s suffocating and depressing. It wasn’t so horrible when my mom was alive. She always kept the windows open to let a breeze in. The smell of fresh flowers would mask my father’s cigarette smoke, and on holidays, she would buy festive pillows to brighten up the place. Mom made this place a home the best way she could. And he destroyed it.
“Chewy.” Ben’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn as he walks out of the kitchen, a half-eaten cookie in his hand. I roll my eyes and give him my back. “Always wondered what your bedroom looked like.” I whip back around as he takes the stairs two at a time.
“God bless it.” I rush after him. Before I catch up, he’s already standing in the center of my childhood bedroom.
“Band posters, huh? I always pictured Albert Einstein or a diagram of the planets on your wall.”
“Well, your theory’s wrong. You can leave now.” God, I hate him.
He turns around with no humor in his expression and walks up to me. I step back and he continues moving until my back hits the wall. “I’m not leaving until I get what I came here for.”
“And what exactly is that?”
He leans in so close, the smell of chocolate drifts into my nose. I hold my breath as his eyes drop to my lips. Go away. Go away. Go away. My belly tightens. His gaze intensifies, and I can’t help but pull my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Well, are you going to tell me or just stand here? I have things—”
His lips, soft yet bruising, crash over mine, cutting off my words. He kisses me with purpose. Almost punishing me as his tongue collides with mine. My nervous system short circuits, sending a live wire of desire through me. He grips my butt and pulls me into him. The simple friction of our bodies touching is almost enough to send me into convulsions. I don’t know what this kiss is. A form of hatred. Passion. Maybe a little of both. His hardness presses against my belly, and a warning siren goes off in my head, but the building ache between my legs silences it.