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)
Or horny, which is like never, by the way. That well dried up ages ago. At least, I thought it had.
Now I think I might need to change once this guy leaves.
That’s not a thought I enjoy having. He just got here.
He’ll buy flowers and then leave. Please don’t leave, James!
“Jasmine?” he asks, lowering his head again so his eyes can meet mine, breaking up the mini pity party I was about to have in my mind.
The darkness in his stare is like the feeling of being in bed after you switch off the light.
Warm. Cozy. Safe.
And he says my name like he enjoys hearing it. He sounds like he actually cares.
“You okay?” he croons, the subtlest hint of mischief in his voice.
“You can have anything you want,” I wheeze vacantly. I begin to sound way blonder than I am.
I feel like I am flushing harder than ever and even feel the room spin a little as I press my thighs together—feeling them slip with how wet he’s already made me. Hopefully, I have dry clothes here.
All he’s doing is trying to buy some flowers.
He hums with pleasure before chuckling to himself, shaking his head as he takes in a lungful of air, sighing with happiness.
He creases the edge of his mouth before opening it to speak again.
There’s the clang of bells, and I half fancy they could be the wedding kind.
No. It’s the brass bell over the door.
“Oh, hi, Jasmine!” another familiar voice calls out.
It’s Theo, the courier I use for deliveries.
“Going to be a wet one today!” he exclaims, shaking off his heavy parka. It’s the one place where I don’t mind if it gets wet.
The store, I mean.
The plants and all.
I move to get the orders I have ready, but I sense the change in James in a flash.
I’m sure some meter just went off somewhere, like the kind they use to measure earthquakes.
My eyes dart to his, hoping for more of that fire that’s been pouring off him. His brow is creased. His eyes narrow, and it sounds like there is a low rumble of thunder from somewhere outside until it is clear it’s coming from him. Definitely sounds like a storm is brewing.
He’s gone from Prince Charming to, I don’t know… an angry side of beef in a second.
I’m torn between focusing on him and getting the deliveries out for Theo. I know he’s on a tight schedule. However, if my new favorite customer’s about to snap, crackle, and pop, then maybe it’s better if Theo sticks around.
“Hey, Theo,” I shiver, sensing that this could go bad fast. I am not exaggerating how upset James is.
“Hiya!” Theo says cheerfully, addressing James with a nod of his head.
“I was here first,” he snarls in reply, saying each word like he’s loading them into a firearm and about to have some target practice with Theo.
I feel my heart freeze, and Theo’s face falls, confused and sorry. He’s sorry he’s upset my customer, but even sorrier that my customer happens to fill half the store and could snap him like a twig.
Theo’s sweet, but he’s not exactly a manly man. Not like James, maybe-must-be-psycho-after-all, here.
My heart’s not jammed because I’m scared. It’s stuck on “what the fuck?” because I don’t know what I did to make him so unhappy. Now for some unknown reason, I only want to make James happy—as if that is my new goal in life.
Call it “florist’s intuition,” but every part of me just wants him to be satisfied—knowing he’s the kind of man to return the favor, in every way possible.
I need to see that smile on his face and light in his eyes again. “I’ll just be a second,” I hear myself stammer awkwardly.
My lids flutter like my heart. My brain is screaming at me to calm down. My heart is pounding out of my shirt.
My insides broadcast the intense need for that mouth to be on me. I want that huge body of his to be someplace else instead of standing upright in my store.
All while I try to focus on lifting some cartons from one end of the counter to the other.
“I’ll be out of your hair in a second,” Theo gulps, grimacing a sorry face and then looking away.
I’m trying not to focus on the other type of intense stare I’m noticing James can give when he’s mad about something. His look is burning holes through Theo.
He’s glad to get his cartons and leave. When Theo does go, he doesn’t even bother to say goodbye or shoot the breeze for a minute like he usually does, even when he is in a hurry.
Leaving me with the same stabbing ache of confusion that’s grappling with my now waning arousal.
Come back… I need you.
CHAPTER FOUR
James
Jasmine does her best to act natural, but I can tell I’ve already made a bad impression.