Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
"Is that the address?" I asked, already moving toward my bike.
"Yeah, but..." he started to object.
But I wasn't listening.
I was already on my bike and driving off.
A couple seconds later, McCoy, Che, and Remy were coming with me.
And we all missed the dozen or so calls from Arty and Seeley.
Chapter Twelve
Harmon
The guys were making a lot more racket than I thought they would. I considered not recording, but a part of me knew that once Huck came back, we would be spending a day or two in bed if possible. And I really needed to get a video up. Like it or lump it, you had to stay relevant in my field. There was always someone coming up and a lot hungrier than you were, so you had to have that competitive edge, you had to keep your audience engaged.
So I got my makeup on, changed into shorts and a tank, and got on my computer.
Possibly for the first time ever, it actually felt like work.
In the past, gaming was my escape. It relaxed me. It got me out of my head. Sure, sometimes it was a pain in the ass to deal with the video part of gaming, but it still always felt like something I did because I wanted to.
But this was work.
And it showed in my repeated failure.
"Wow, I am off my game today," I told the camera, shaking my head as I waited for my body to regenerate, using up the last of my previous and rare healing potion it had taken me months to find.
"Oh, wow," I grumbled when I somehow missed the quicksand, seeing myself slip under just minutes after I finally got moving again. "I guess I should just call it a day, guys. You can't win them all."
On a sigh, I ripped off my headphones, leaning back in the chair, letting my mind wander since it was determined to do so anyway.
See, the problem was, I'd slept well.
Not only did I sleep well, but I woke up feeling calmer, more at peace than I ever remember feeling.
That was the reason I had slipped out from under Huck's arm, off of his chest, taking myself into the bathroom to attempt to reason with myself.
It was all the feel-good sex hormones. They were tricky little bastards, firing off all your nerve endings, making you think things you had no business thinking, believing things that simply weren't true.
Still, I'd had sex before. I'd had great sex before. And I never woke up feeling like I was feeling then.
Light.
Happy.
It was dangerous to let myself feel that way, to get any more wrapped up than I already was.
Huck was not a settling down sort.
For all I knew, when he woke up, he would decide he was done with me.
That thought sent a stabbing sensation through my chest that I pretended to ignore as I took a shower, brushed my teeth, got dressed, then made my way downstairs, hoping some distance would get my mind right.
And then I promptly decided that I wanted to make a giant breakfast for him, but disguise it as food for all of them. Because that was normal and everything.
This whole thing was going to blow up in my face—likely sooner rather than later —and I was going to be a lot more upset about it than I had any right to.
It wasn't helping that we were, in a way, playing house. It made everything feel a lot comfier, cozier. I mean it was usually months before I ever stayed more than a night over someone's house, and by then, feelings were usually expected.
Everything was just accelerated here.
And, I reminded myself as I reached for my headphones again, planning to hop on to film something short for my Patronage-Only subscribers, get ahead of things, get my mind occupied so I didn't start a doom-spiral about what could—and likely would—happen when all this went down in flames while I was still in Huck's house.
I'd just finished filming a The Wheel of Life discussion when I heard the door open.
My damn heart skipped at the idea of Huck being back, about him maybe grabbing me by the throat like he had in the kitchen, pushing me up against the wall, and fucking me until I forgot all about how bad of an idea it was.
But it wasn't Huck.
I knew it when I heard footsteps rushing forward that it wasn't him. Because Huck just wasn't the rushing sort. But also because the footsteps seemed too light. Huck was not a small man. When he walked, you heard him. So when he ran, I imagined it was loud as well.
I started to whirl around just as I saw a flash of a body right at my side, making a shriek bubble up and burst out, knowing that Remy and Seeley would come running, would save me, would get Huck, so they could make the people who meant me harm pay. If for no other reason that I was his guest, that it was a matter of reputation.