Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
My eyes widen. “You sent the guy covered in tattoos to buy me lingerie?”
He gives me an exasperated huff. “I wasn’t too happy about him picking your things out either, but Rose and Emmalyn weren’t here.”
“You didn’t have to wash my clothes,” I say softly.
I stand from the bed and carry the basket from the floor, placing it on the dresser. I turn to grab the second basket to find Kid standing behind me with it.
“I wanted to help,” he says handing it to me. “Want me to help get them in the drawers?”
I hadn’t even considered unloading them. Putting my things away makes this seem more permanent, and I haven’t allowed myself to think that I’d be able to stay here very long.
“Sure,” I say.
Within minutes, we have the laundry baskets empty. I watch as he stacks them within one another and places them in the bottom of the closet.
“The laundry room is in the basement. I’ll need to get you some hangers if there’s anything you’d rather have hung than folded,” he says closing the closet door.
“Sounds good,” I tell him walking back and getting back in bed. “Thank you, again.”
“No big deal.” He looks at me and to the far side of the bed and back again to me. “Mind if I join you?”
More perfect words have never been spoken.
“Sure,” I say as calmly as I can, even though my heart begins pounding in my chest.
He makes quick work of his boots and settles in on the opposite side of the bed from me.
“More Breaking Bad?” I ask pressing buttons on the remote and pulling up Netflix.
“Sounds good to me.”
He leans against the headboard, eyes facing forward to the TV. The foot and a half between us feels like a million miles. Both kisses we’ve shared have been nothing more than a brush of soft lips, but I can’t help but want more. More of his lips on mine. More than his hand in mine or on the small of my back. I haven’t let myself want more for a long time.
Unable to focus on the movie and not wanting to get caught staring at him like a crazy woman, I pull out my phone. I feel his eyes shift to me.
“You should give me your number,” he says.
I look up at him and watch as he pulls his own phone from the front pocket of his jeans.
“Can’t,” I tell him.
“You may need to get ahold of me at some point, Khloe. I want you to have my number as well.”
“I wouldn’t have an issue with you having my number, Kid, but this phone doesn’t have service. I was covered on Alec’s plan. Seems his parents turned that off too.”
I clear my throat, refusing to let the pain show again. It kills me how much Alec’s parents hate me. I never expected them to pay my cell phone bill, but I also didn’t think they’d turn the phones off so quick. I can’t even call his phone any longer to hear his voicemail message.
“Come here,” he says noticing the change in my mood.
I scoot across the bed, closing the distance between us. I curl into his side and love the way his strong arm feels wrapped around my back.
“I’ll get you another phone,” he whispers against the top of my head.
“You don’t have to do that. I don’t expect you to take care of me.” He is though. I have no money, no job, no plans for my future.
He doesn’t say anything back, only squeezes me a little bit harder.
I close my eyes and let myself imagine that he’s mine, and I’m his. In my brief fantasy, I’m all that he sees. I’m not a seventeen-year-old kid, but the air he breathes, the one he comes home to each night. I let myself picture a world where he thinks about me when we’re not side by side.
He laughs at something on the TV, jerking me out of my ridiculous fantasy.
I lift my head pulling his attention from the show and gaze at his face. I see his eyes dart to my mouth and without a second thought, I lean in to kiss him. I’m just a hair’s breadth away from his lips when I feel his hand in my hair, pulling me back. I groan at the sensation it sends down my back.
“Don’t,” he whispers.
“You don’t want to kiss me?” My bravado takes a nosedive.
“We can’t,” he says huskily.
“I’m not a child,” I say lowering my eyes to his chest rather than the plush lips I want against my own.
“You’re not eighteen either,” he says shifting me, so I’m back against his chest.
I guess I should be glad he didn’t shove me away completely.
“But you’re interested,” I state testing my luck.
“You have no idea,” he says with a light chuckle.