Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I stripped for him quickly, then sat on the edge of the table waiting for him to come to me and take what he wanted. And he did. He touched me, clutched at me, and caressed me. He pushed me over the edge and I lost myself to his touch.
And this time, I didn’t have to war with myself over whether or not it was right to enjoy this. Instead, I reminded myself he had done something nice for me today. That made it a little easier to accept him as he slid inside me and made me find my release.
Chapter 11
A couple of weeks later, I was closing up shop by myself. Jessie had asked for the night off, heading out with a few of her girlfriends to enjoy the nightlife while she was still young. Cody was at my neighbor’s apartment tonight, just in case Ethan called in an impromptu payment. That left just me for the moment.
Today had been the same kind of busy it always was these days. Ethan had made good on his word to pay for the damages to the store and some much needed improvements, meaning the wall was up—though we were still talking about colors for paint; I hated the blue he’d picked out and he hated the moss green I wanted.
The charred remains of the convenient store were also mostly gone, leaving a cleared out slab of concrete for a base. Ethan and I had been discussing what we might use it for.
We, I thought, shaking my head a little at myself. Like we’re legitimate partners or something.
Sighing, I took the tub of packed up scissors to the back where I stored them at night. My supplies were right beside the closet where Ethan stored his drugs. That door always remained locked. I didn’t even have a key for it—Ethan’s guys put the new lock on—and really didn’t want a key. Ethan could handle his own business; I didn’t want to worry about it, too.
Putting up my tub, I heard the little bell above the door ring. “Damn, I could have sworn I locked it,” I muttered to myself. Raising my voice, I called to the front, “Sorry! We’re closed!”
I listened for a minute and when I didn’t hear the bell ring again, I let out a sigh. Whoever it was was still in the shop. Heading out to the front, I froze when I saw a large, burly man sitting in one of my chairs, flipping through a magazine. He looked so out of place that it was laughable, with his leather pants and his tattooed arms, flipping through a fashion magazine.
But I didn’t feel like laughing. There was something about the man that spoke of danger. Like a predator poised to strike.
Swallowing back my fear, I put on my best “I’m in charge” face. “Excuse me, I said we’re closed. But you’re welcome to come back in the morning, of course.” Though I seriously hoped he wouldn’t take me up on that offer.
Putting down the magazine, he smiled at me. It was a smile that reminded me of the first time Ethan was in my shop. And that wasn’t a good thing. Standing, he said, “Diana Leone? My, you’re pretty.”
I stiffened. I was starting to think that being pretty wasn’t doing me very many favors. Neither was being a good girl, I’d noticed. “Yes, I’m Ms. Leone. If you need to talk about something, like I said, come back in the morning.”
“I don’t think so.”
Before I could tell him off or threaten to call the police—which was a damn joke in the first place—he was across the room with his hands on my upper arms. He shoved me against the wall hard enough that the back of my head hit it and bounced back. I blinked past a sharp, shooting pain, working to stay focused.
“I think we should talk now,” he told me, close enough that I could smell the mint on his breath.
Fearing coursing through my veins like blood, I did my best to stay calm. I didn’t want him to know how badly he was freaking me out right now. “What do you want?”
“I want to know what your secret is.”
“What secret?” I asked, genuinely at a loss as to what he was talking about.
He released my arms so he could gesture to the store surrounding us. “I couldn’t help but notice your flourishing business. You see, I’m a small business owner, too. I’ve been watching your little shop and even a blind man can see that you’re doing marvelously well given that you just lost half your store in a terrible fire.” He gestured to the wall that had just been replaced. “Did insurance cover that?”
I pursed my lips together. I quickly shuffled through my options. Now that he’d let me go, I could try to shove at him and make a break for it, but how far would I get? And what would he do then? My recent experience was telling me two things: don’t try to run, because I won’t make it, and don’t show fear, because he’ll use it against me.