Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 68936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“I guess I’m driving you home then,” I mutter, grabbing a handful of paper towel and dabbing my dress as I turn and walk out of the clubhouse.
Girl didn’t even get a drink, dammit.
We get into the car and Hera gets in the back, her face sour as she glares at Adan. He is oblivious, of course, and doesn’t even turn to look at her as we start driving. I ask her where she lives, and she tries to tell me she’s coming home with us, to which Adan tells her she absolutely is not. She goes quiet then.
As we drive, I zone out. I focus on the road and try not to focus on the two people in the car making shit awkward for everyone.
It’s during that time that I feel Adan’s hand. At first, I’m shocked. Mostly, because I didn’t even notice him move. It’s dark in the car, other than the passing headlights from others, and maybe that’s why I didn’t notice. His rough hand lands on my thigh, very subtly, and his fingers curl into my skin as he pulls my knee toward him, effectively spreading my legs.
I feel the woosh of cold air on my lady parts, and know my dress is way too short to be sitting like this.
Adan’s hand leaves my leg, and I’m sat, legs spread apart, heart racing, wondering what the hell that was.
I glance at him.
He looks at me.
And the expression on his face makes me weak at the knees.
My god he’s hot, so fucking hot.
His eyes are intense.
His gaze unwavering and unrelenting.
Then he faces the front again.
What in the ever-loving hell was that?
“YOU SHOULD BE NICER to Hera,” I say as we walk up the stairs after arriving home. “She really likes you. If you don’t want to be with her, stop fucking her.”
“She was the easiest thing I could find tonight. Better what you know ...”
“God, you’re a real dick aren’t you? She’s not a toy, she’s a person.”
“A person who hangs around at the clubhouse waiting for me to fuck her.”
“Yes, and if you didn’t fuck her she’d move on and find a nice man, a man who actually likes her. You fucking her is keeping her there, and you know it.”
He glances at me. “I need a shower.”
Swift change of subject.
“It’s nearly midnight, Adan.”
“I don’t give a fuck what time it is, I need a shower. You’re here to do that, so do it.”
Oh, god.
I hate him sometimes.
My heart is so all over the place when it comes to this man.
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’ll get changed and be right there.”
I turn and walk away, teeth still clenched tightly together. I have a quick shower of my own, throw my hair into a messy bun, put my pajamas on and head back to the bathroom where Adan is standing, waiting for me. I begin wrapping his arms in plastic for his shower so his bandages don’t get wet.
“What the hell took you so long?”
“I had my own shower. You’ll live.”
I finish his hands and step up to him to begin undressing, and for the first time, when my hands reach his jacket, my heart races. I’ve showered him plenty of times, and not once, not ever, has my heart gone silly like this.
Calm down, you over-active freak, we don’t like him.
I take in a deep, calming breath and slide his jacket off his shoulders.
Why the hell does this feel so erotic?
God dammit.
I make a grunting sound, trying to snap myself out of it.
“You havin’ a fuckin’ stroke or something?”
I look up at him, my heart races again. I’ve lost my mind.
“No, why?”
“You’re actin’ weird.”
“I’m tired.”
I shove his jacket off and then grab his shirt, removing it as quickly as I can, followed by his pants. I do not make eye contact with his dick, not once. I put my nurse brain in and wash his body faster than I’ve ever washed a body in my life. He stares at me the whole time, and once he’s dried, I pull his pajama pants on and turn, walking out of the door.
I can’t look at him.
I can’t.
I’m failing, he’s winning.
That’s what’s happening here.
I need to snap out of it.
“What’s goin’ on with you?” he asks, walking into the kitchen ten minutes later.
I’m making myself a turmeric latte. Sounds gross, but it’s delicious, and Eve introduced it to me years ago. I have had one before bed every night since. Because it helps me sleep, and turmeric ... right? It’s good for you and all that.
At least, it makes me feel better assuming so.
“I’m tired,” I say, stirring the milk on the stove.
“Never had a shower so quick in all my life,” he murmurs, coming up behind me.
I spin around, knocking the pot off the stove. The hot milk splashes all over me, and I cry out, stumbling to get out of its way. I’m as jittery as a cat on a hot tin roof and I’m losing my shit. Now, my skin is burning.