Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell Marcos when he returns. “I was going to call a ride.”
“It’s no problem. I just finished a meeting, and I don’t like sitting in the office all day.”
He’s probably eager for me to find an apartment so I can get out of his house, so I don’t make an argument. Instead, I follow him to the garage, where he leads me to the passenger side of a truck and opens the door for me.
He also holds out a hand to assist me. I want to avoid contact with him, afraid of what feelings his touch might spark, but doing so would seem rude, so I put my hand in his palm. His fingers close around mine, and sure enough, sparks race up my arm and down my spine, and I start to sweat.
He holds onto me for a little longer than necessary, and then, when I’m settled, he closes the door behind me. His truck smells like him, and my pussy pulses at the memory of being in his lap last night.
I could get drunk from the scent of him, and as soon as he starts the engine, I crack my window, but by that time, he’s sitting next to me, so I have bigger concerns than just the delicious smell of him. There’s his handsome face and his hard body just inches away from me.
It’s as if the man put a spell on me last night, and I need to break it right now. I slept with Shane, and then with Khalil, and it was never my intention to work my way through all of them. Quite the opposite, actually.
But telling myself they’re off limits apparently isn’t working for me. Not with these men.
24
You are not the boss of me
“What’s the address?” Marcos asks.
As I tell him, he enters the information into a fancy GPS, and a map to the destination appears. After he scans the route, he switches the screen over to the music player, but he turns the volume down so low that it’s nearly inaudible.
“BB King’s Bluesville?” I ask, reading from the screen.
Marcos pulls out of the driveway and heads toward the main road. “Yeah.”
“Turn it up.”
One of his eyebrows cocks in surprise as he glances over at me. “You like the blues?”
I nod. “Yep.” A friend in high school turned me on to the genre. I don’t listen much, but I really like the sound. Something by Bonnie Raitt is playing. It’s more upbeat than the classics I’m familiar with, but it’s good.
He’s quiet during the drive, which is no surprise with Marcos. The silence makes me uncomfortable, but I restrain myself from saying something just to fill it.
When we reach the first apartment building, he parks in a spot marked for visitors and makes moves to get out when I open my door.
“You don’t have to come with me,” I say. “I’ll try to be quick.”
A flicker of something I can’t read crosses his face, but he leans back in his seat. “Take your time.”
The buildings at the apartment complex look fairly new, and the grounds seem to be clean and well-maintained. The available unit is just a studio — one room plus a bathroom — but that’s all I need, and all I can afford, especially at a nicer property.
There’s no one in the office except for a woman sitting behind the desk. Another good sign; maybe I’m the first person to arrive. My wishful thinking is quickly brought to an end.
“I’m sorry. We just rented that unit,” she says when I inquire about the studio apartment.
“Are any others available?”
“There’s a two-bedroom unit that’s about to become available,” she says.
“What’s the rent?” I cringe internally as I ask, knowing it’s going to be too much for me to afford.
She answers and confirms my assumption. It’s much too rich for my blood. I’d need two roommates in order to be able to afford it.
I thank the woman and return to the truck, a considerable amount of pep gone from my step. “No luck,” I tell Marcos as I strap on my seatbelt.
I give him the address for the apartment on Four Points and he pulls out of the lot. There’s a song on now with a line in it about the night sky, and it reminds me of something I wanted to ask him about.
“I noticed your telescope when I was cleaning the house yesterday,” I say, trying hard to forget what I was doing in his room when Khalil found me. “Do you use it much?”
Stopped at a light, he gives me a long look before he answers. “Not as much as I’d like.”
“I have an app I like to use,” I explain. “It shows what constellations are visible on any given night.”
“I have one like that too,” he says.