Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
I figure it's just Betty from next door wanting to borrow something she forgot to buy at the grocery store. So, without even glancing through the peephole, I throw the door open, ready to launch into our usual banter.
“What is it this time, Betty?” I start, but my voice trails off as I come face-to-face with someone I absolutely did not expect. Standing there, looking every bit as unshakably handsome as I remember, is Nash freaking Hart. He’s wearing a fitted t-shirt that clings to those impressive muscle contours I felt under my hands not too long ago, and for a second, I can’t form any coherent thoughts.
“Uh, hi,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching as he glances down at my still-damp hair and the borrowing-a-shirt vibe I’m rocking. It sends an unexpected fizz of nervousness shooting down my spine. Darn. I need to start checking the peephole.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out, my heart suddenly racing like a speeding train, and I mentally kick myself for sounding so shocked. I pull my tank top down a little lower, suddenly conscious of my appearance.
“I thought I’d take another shot at getting you to have lunch with me,” he starts, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shifting slightly as if he’s uncertain of the whole situation. “Or dinner if you prefer.”
My mind races. Should I take the chance? Instead of ignoring the exciting yet confusing energy that’s pragmatically been dancing around in my head for the last few days, I could see where it leads. My coffee pot coughs and sputters behind me, almost as if it’s mocking my growing apprehension.
“Um, okay…” I manage to collect myself, pushing my messy thoughts aside to respond, feeling warmth spread across my cheeks. If this isn’t the universe throwing a curveball, I don’t know what is. “You want to come in?”
He steps inside without hesitation, and I know this unexpected visit is about to take a turn I can’t quite predict. I need coffee now more than ever. Or maybe wine. Surely, it’s happy hour somewhere.
Boo comes trotting into the living room, tail held high like she owns the place. She pauses mid-stride, eyeing Nash with the kind of scrutiny only a cat can muster. For a moment, I concentrate on her tactics and ignore the electricity flowing back and forth between me and my unexpected visitor.
Nash crouches down without missing a beat and reaches out to give Boo a gentle scratch behind her ears. Traitor that she is, Boo leans into his touch, purring her happiness like they’re old friends.
“Careful, she’s a tough critic,” I quip, crossing my arms as I watch the unlikely bonding session unfold.
Nash glances up, that roguish smirk dancing across his lips. “I’ve been known to win over even the toughest customers,” he replies. The edge in his tone sets off a little flutter in my chest, reminding me how dangerous this man is to my heart.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” I offer, trying to shift my focus back to the caffeine lifeline I was so eager for a few moments ago.
“No, thank you. I’ve had enough caffeine today,” he says, standing to full height. The ease with which he moves with casual confidence woven into every gesture is infuriatingly attractive.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “There’s no such thing as enough caffeine,” I protest. “You're missing out.”
He takes the comment in stride, his low rumbling chuckle filling the small kitchen space. We move over to the tiny breakfast bar. He slides into a seat way too close to me, his spicy scent wrapping around me.
I sip my coffee slowly, letting the dark liquid wake up all my drowsy brain circuits.
“Have lunch with me,” he says. It’s more like a command wrapped in allure, and damn if it doesn’t throw me off balance.
I hesitate, biting my lip as I search for the right words, caught in a rare moment of uncertainty. It’s unnerving how quickly this man slips past my defenses, nudging at walls I’ve built with both care and stubbornness.
He leans close, never breaking eye contact. It’s like he’s closing the space between us with sheer will. “I can’t get you out of my head. It’s like you’ve taken up residence there, and I want more. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
The gravelly undertone in his deep voice sends shivers up my spine. The possessiveness of his stare hits me like a jolt, breaking through my resolve. Here’s a man who’s used to getting what he wants, and right now, that’s me.
“Look. I…” My words stumble against the intensity he’s throwing my way. “I’m not looking for a casual hook-up. That’s not what I’m about.”
Instead of cooling, his gaze sharpens, and there’s a flicker of challenge in those depths. “I don’t do relationships at all. At least, I didn’t until you barged into my life,” he confesses, his voice rough and honest. “I can’t get you out of my fucking mind.”