Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Making sure you got here okay. Drink.”
“No. Thank you. Actually, scratch that, I don’t thank you. Please get out.”
He shakes his head. “We need to have a conversation.”
I groan, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe, just maybe, if I open them again slowly, he’ll disappear. Maybe I’m finally cracking and Carson’s a figment of my imagination.
But no, still there. Still hot as sin. Still staring at me with unrestrained hunger. Sick bastard.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” I clench my jaw, so pissed I could burst—and finally, I decide to give up. “Just go away.” I storm past him, down the hall, and into my room.
I hear his footsteps on the floorboards as he follows. I throw my stuff on the bed, brush past him again, and slam the bathroom door shut. I lock the handle and turn on the water.
His voice comes through the door. “You’re really going to take a bath right now?”
“I think today of all days I deserve it. Normally, I’d have some wine, but—”
The door unlocks and opens a fraction. I flinch back, half-undressed, wearing on my bra and panties. “Here you are,” Carson says. He holds a filled glass of wine into the room as I frantically try to find the right pose where my hands and legs can cover my sexy bits. Well, my bits, I don’t know how sexy they are right now.
“You can’t just barge into the damn bathroom!”
“I’m not barging. If I wanted to do that, I’d be in there, and you’d be very naked.”
“What, I don’t, you’re just—” I have to get control of my stupid brainless vagina because all it wants is to wrap itself around that man’s mouth and let him make me forget all my troubles for a while. Bad vagina, very, very bad. “Give me that.”
I snatch the wine away.
The door quietly closes.
I stand there, seething, take a long drink, then strip off my underwear. I’m blushing, imagining Carson, that enormous, beautiful model standing on the other side of the flimsy wooden door that’s apparently useless. I slip into the water, trembling slightly.
“I know you hate me right now.” His voice is soft, muffled by the plywood. “But regardless of how you feel, I am your best option.”
“I think my best option is to go get a guard dog and a gun.” I sink lower, getting comfortable. “A big dog and a bigger gun.”
“You’d shoot yourself. You’re not a gun girl.”
He’s got a point there. I hate guns. “Better than letting you drag me around.”
“I have a house in Beacon Hill. Actually, it’s two houses with the walls knocked down. There’s an entire guest wing you can stay in.”
I hesitate. Beacon Hill is extremely fancy. It’s like living in old-world Boston, but with amenities. And an entire wing…
“How about you let me have the house and you can go stay in a hotel.”
He chuckles. “That won’t work for me.”
“I prefer my own space.”
“And I prefer being very close to you.”
“We haven’t spoken in a decade. You don’t know what you want with me.”
There’s a long, charged silence, and my nipples are absolutely erect.
What’s wrong with me right now? Am I fliting with Carson through the door, or at least thinking about him breaking his way in here only to ravish my soaking wet body until I black out from the ecstasy?
Yes, pretty much. I am truly broken.
“I never stopped thinking about you, Ash.” His tone is gentle but intense. “All these years. I kept my distance because that’s what you wanted and I have respect for Iain, but I never forgot you.”
I snort. It’s not ladylike, but I’m past caring. “I doubt that big time. You’re Carson Crowley, one of the richest men in the country. What the hell do you care about some broke, worthless girl from a rough family? I’m nothing to you.”
“No, you’re very wrong about that.” Another long pause. “Come with me. I’ll protect you and I’ll give you space if that’s what you need.”
“Like you gave me space when I came in here to take a bath? How about you practice and get out of my apartment.”
“That isn’t going to happen. I can only go so far before I break.”
“Break?” I laugh, my tone a little panicked and hysterical. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”
“No. But I’m running on a few hours of sleep over the past couple days and I am extremely stubborn. I’m not letting you go.”
“That’s not helping!”
“I’ll sleep on your couch tonight.” A short pause. “That thing is a couch, right?”
“Don’t you dare insult my futon. I found it outside of a Berklee dorm room, so you know it’s really nice.”
He sighs deeply. “A college kid’s trash. You are something else.”
“What do you want from me? I’m broke. I do what I have to.” I grind my jaw and finish my wine. “Can you please just go?”