Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
No. Of course not . . . right? It’s Xander’s place, so it’s probably the boys from the hockey team coming to bust his balls about the whole illegal fighting thing. I’m sure Coach Harris has let them all in on the secret by now.
Feeling a little more confident, I double-check myself, making sure none of my lady bits are hanging out, and I step forward to answer the door.
The loud pounding starts up again just as I pull the door open, and I nearly get punched in the head by some older man. I jump back out of the way, and the guy at least has the decency to lower his hand. A small woman stands beside him, looking down at me. Though, I don’t know how that’s even possible since I’m taller than her by at least a foot.
“Who the hell are you?” the man demands.
“Excuse me?” I ask, completely on edge. I mean, who are these people to come here so early on a Sunday morning, nearly breaking down the door, and throwing out demands? Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. “I could ask the same question,” I say, but I’m quickly starting to realize who they are. It’s no wonder Xander prefers to stay as far away from them as possible.
They ignore my question, just as I had theirs. “Where’s my son?” the man demands.
Realizing there really isn’t much I can do in this situation, I decide to be a little helpful. I mean, the sooner they get their answers, the sooner they’ll be gone, right? “It’s seven in the morning. He’s in bed,” I inform them. Not that they need so much information. “I’ll go wake him.”
His mother scoffs at me, but I turn my back and leave them standing in the open doorway, not bothering with an invitation to come in. Though from what I’ve heard from Xander, that probably would have brought along snarky comments about how it’s their house, and they don’t need to be invited in. I’m sure they think they can come and go as they please.
We only started looking for a place to live together last night, but I suddenly can’t get out of this house fast enough.
I dash up the stairs and back into the bedroom before striding over to Xander’s side of the bed. I bend to wake him, only his hand snakes out and grabs me around the waist, pulling me to him. “What the hell are you doing out of bed? The sun has hardly risen,” he grumbles as he rolls us until he’s hovered over me, my legs wrapped around his waist and his morning wood grinding against my clit. Though, he’s probably going to need to get that shit sorted out . . . and fast.
“Stop,” I laugh, gently pushing against his chest to keep him from kissing me. Because the second those lips touch mine, all hope will be lost. “First of all, it’s just after seven and the sun certainly has risen. And secondly, your parents nearly broke down the door trying to let themselves in.”
His body stiffens. “What?” he asks, wide-eyed, staring at me like I’m playing some fucked-up game. “My parents are here?”
“Yep,” I confirm, popping the p. “And let me tell you, they are the most pleasant people I have ever met. I don’t know why you haven’t introduced us earlier.”
“Shit, babe.” He sighs as he hops off the bed and pulls on a pair of jeans, his morning wood long gone. “I’m sorry. I thought we had a few days before this would happen.”
“Apparently not,” I say, also getting up and pulling on some clothes.
Xander heads to the stairs, but I detour to the bathroom to make sure I look decent. After all, these are his parents, no matter how much Xander despises them.
I head back down the stairs to find Xander’s parents have most certainly invited themselves in. Xander’s father stands in the center of the living room, arms folded across his chest as he scowls at his son, while his mother potters about in the kitchen, making herself a coffee.
I’m hardly down the stairs by the time Xander’s father is tearing into him. “What the fuck is this shit I hear about you being kicked off the team?” he demands.
“Dad,” Xander starts, but his father isn’t hearing him and cuts him off.
“Did you get yourself in trouble?” he questions. “What is it? Drugs? Partying? Or you just couldn’t cut it in training? You’ve always been useless. Do you know what kind of strings I had to pull to get you on this team? I should have known you’d screw up like this. You don’t have the drive that I had.”
Xander leans back against the railing of the stairs, and I slip my hand through the gap to rest it on his shoulder. His body is shaking with rage, and I sense him trying to hold himself back, but fuck, if he doesn’t say something, then I will. How dare this asshole speak to Xander like that.