Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
I wait and watch just long enough before a dark car parks in the alley opposite me fifteen minutes later. I see the familiar face of Lipton, the head of James and Jones security, chomping at the bit to do something other than sit at a desk.
They look more like CIA agents, too, which sets my mind at ease. They have no authority here, but I don’t think anyone is going to ask them any questions.
Lipton spots me and nods curtly, signaling they’re on it. I couldn’t be doing a better job of it myself, and if they’ve spotted me, I figure I’m doing a crap job at hiding.
I hail a cab and keep my eyes on her building as long as I can before it disappears, swallowed up by the city. I head for home—our home soon.
My phone was in my hand the whole way. Waiting for the call I kind of want but don’t want. I want to find out where she’s going if she does leave, but I’d really like her to stay put while I get ready.
I don’t want anything in her life but me from now on, and not having her right by me in mine? That’s not something I want to last much longer, either. It’s about twenty-four hours already, and me going home alone without her just feels wrong.
I must be slipping in my old age. Whenever I see something I like or something I want, I just take it, but this is a little different. There’s our whole future playing out over and over in my mind. I want Jasmine’s hand shaping it, too. Those same hands I picture running over me when I’m finally standing under the jet streams of hot water in my penthouse shower. The sight and feel of my own arousal are so constant now I may as well call it my “Jasmine.”
It’s just one of the things she does to me, even when she’s not around, and a constant reminder of her as I dry off and slip into some track pants. I feel like I’m overdressed, but this is according to my “Jasmine.”
I easily devour the contents of my refrigerator. A day with nothing but a mug of cocoa for a guy my size is not healthy, but it all kinda tastes the same, as filling and delicious as it is.
What I really want in my mouth is something else.
The scent and taste of her hand on my lips are still etched in my senses, and I hum and grunt at the memory as I eat. I’m satisfied knowing I will have a new world of flavors, scents, and sensations to explore soon.
If she’s playing hard to get, she’s doing a bang-up job of it. I mean, what happened to powerful, independent young women? I thought they didn’t like that old-fashioned stuff where the guy has to take the lead, but I’ve only got myself to blame there.
I’ve got a ton of corny, but very horny, ideas for romance. If it’s what she wants as bad as I need it, I don’t care who takes charge once we’re right where we should be—in our bed, getting to know each other in the best way possible. The idea makes me grin like a maniac as I look at the clothes I’ve laid out, sitting on the edge of the bed I know I’ll be sharing with her soon.
My phone is still in my hands as I stare at the screen until my eyes itch and burn, even to focus.
I figure I can just rest them for a bit.
Just a… few… minutes…
CHAPTER NINE
Jasmine
That feeling of being watched?
I think I just picked up on the undercover agent convention they’re having in the side alley. Not real cops by the looks, but maybe something else. Who knows these days?
In this neighborhood, nothing surprises me. Then one of them zooms in on me through those wrap-around shades. He’s talking with his finger to his ear, so I start walking faster.
By the time it hits me they’re actually following me, I hail a cab. I know, right? They’ll never catch me now. I’m in a cab!
After yesterday, last night… nothing surprises me anymore. I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation for some guys in suits with earpieces driving the same way I’m going. That’s what I tell myself after trying not to look back every second block we pass.
It’s extravagant, I know. A taxi ride to work, and it’s my first official day off, too, but Phil sounded cut up about Iris. If she closed up early yesterday, she must be unwell. A nanna nap here or there is par for the course for Iris, but if it’s Phil ringing me, I know it’s got to be bad.
I’ve never had grandparents or even parents to worry about. It’s always been just me or whoever was the foster family for that year. Kinda got old after a while, but I like to think I treat everyone the same way. Being nice isn’t hard, and most people are nice right back.