Total pages in book: 181
Estimated words: 177690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 888(@200wpm)___ 711(@250wpm)___ 592(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 888(@200wpm)___ 711(@250wpm)___ 592(@300wpm)
fifteen
faith
“I can’t see as how this is much better than my place,” I lie.
Titan found a Hampton Inn and Suites one town away from Buck-Stop, and then got a suite. It’s probably a big step down for him. For me, it’s nicer than any place I’ve ever lived or stayed in—with the exception of our hotel room in Vegas. This place is lush, for sure. There’s a king size bed in one room with a bathroom you could have put my last apartment inside of. There’s a door that opens off the bathroom that connects to a room with a sleeper sofa. I guess that’s where he expects me to sleep; he doesn’t seem like the type to give up the bed. There’s a kitchenette, a huge television and attached desk. It’s gorgeous, but there’s no way I would admit that to him.
He grunts at me while taking off the blazer he’s wearing. I remember the feel of that blazer and the smell of it… the smell of him. I gave it back to him after we came back to my room at the truck stop and I threw my own clothes on. Suddenly I miss it. That thought brings a sigh to my lips, but I hold it in and try to ignore the way the shirt he’s wearing stretches across his broad shoulders and chest with his movement. Titan might be a jerk, but he’s hot—as in panty melting hot.
Too bad he’s an asshole.
“I’m thirsty,” I inform him.
“There’s a sink with water,” he says, not even bothering to look up at me.
Definite asshole.
“I’d like a real drink, from the vending machines,” I grumble. I’d prefer an alcohol-type drink but there’s no in-room bar and I don’t think alcohol and Titan mix really well together.
I learned that lesson the hard way.
“The only way you get that is if I go with you and I’m too damn tired to leave this room. That makes your choices limited.”
“So you’re saying I’m a prisoner here?”
“Until I get a hold of my attorney tomorrow and he gets me the papers you need to sign so we can get our divorce, then yes.”
“You’re just being mean,” I mumble, clearly pouting. He ignores my pout and he does this by securing the remote control and turning on the television.
“Mean is telling people a man’s dick isn’t a dick but fucking titty fat,” he grumbles, stretching out on the bed. He kicks his shoes off and pulls two pillows behind him to lie on. He’s got his hands behind his head, elbows bent, looking like he owns the world. He might have a point but I ignore it. Instead, I rifle through my bag and find my shorts and a cami that I usually sleep in. Then I bundle them up in my arms and look at my prison warden, daring him to argue.
“I’m taking the first shower.” I expected him to respond, but he doesn’t. He ignores me and I take that for a yes. I stomp off, leaving him to his television.
Getting in the shower, I notice yet another difference between the hotel that Titan picked and the one I was staying at. The hot water is actually hot and the water is crystal. I’d never admit it where Titan could hear me, but there were times I couldn’t wash in the water at the truck stop. It would come out more brown than anything and I’d go into the garage early and clean up there. Which means I lose myself in the shower. I should feel guilty that I take all of the hot water from Titan, but I can’t seem to. No one made him follow me and they sure didn’t make him hold me hostage in a hotel room—even if that hotel room is fantastic.
“You better be in here,” Titan growls, barging in the door just as I grab a towel. I’ve never been extremely shy about my body and it’s kind of stupid to worry about it around Titan, since we know each other—in the biblical sense. Still, for modesty’s sake I do hold the towel in front of me, hiding my boobs and hoo-hah.
His large frame kind of stops mid-movement. His face registers surprise and his dark whiskey eyes center on me and put off enough heat that I’m almost afraid they can burn me. His gaze is trained on my body and I’m wondering if I should worry they could catch the towel I’m wrapping around me on fire. When it’s clear he’s not going to look up, I almost giggle.
“See something you like, Big Daddy?”
“Can you cut out the nickname shit?”
“You don’t like being called Big Daddy?”
“Not especially,” he says, letting his annoyance shine bright.
“I’ll be sure to do it more often. Was there a reason you busted in here?”