Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“Sorry,” I apologize as I unplugged it and tossed it out of the way.
He grunted.
“Not that I’m complaining that you’re here, but why are you here?” I questioned as I opened my phone.
I quickly typed in ‘land for sale Hostel, Texas’ in the search bar and hit go.
Instantly about forty-five sites popped up, and I clicked the first one.
Doing this, I was unaware of the hesitation on Parker’s end, mostly because I was immersed in something I loved to do—looking up houses for sale.
I loved real estate. I loved the home building process. I loved remodeling. I loved everything there was about houses, remodeling, buying property, and anything that had to do with the three.
At least as long as it was on television—or I wasn’t actually having to do any work, that was.
“I watched a show yesterday on HGTV,” I told Parker, not noticing that he hadn’t answered my earlier question. “The man wanted a garage and mancave. The Property Brothers built it for him. It was fan-fucking-tastic. Honestly, when I think of you, I think of a big barndominium. One that you find a pole barn and then make it yours. I don’t see you as a house type of guy.”
Then I clicked on some property that was sixty acres. “Do you want a pond?”
“Yeah.” He rolled over, seemingly intrigued now. “Why?”
“This one has a pond,” I showed him my phone.
He moved closer, and the light off my phone lit up his bearded face.
He looked sexy and sleepy, and oh so touchable.
His hazel eyes were twitching as he read under the photo about the land.
“Eight-acre pond. Holy fuck.”
“Is that big?” I questioned.
He nodded. “Huge.”
I pulled my phone back. “It’s about twenty minutes outside of town. We should go look at it.”
I threw the covers off and started to climb back over him, but he caught me before I could make it all the way. Then, surprising the daylights out of me, he practically threw his arm and leg over me and told me, “Stay.”
I blinked, surrounded by his big body, and couldn’t find it in me to protest.
Then I bit my lip and tried not to sigh as I snuggled deeper into his body.
I knew he wasn’t doing this because he wanted me close, but damn, I could sure pretend!
The longer I stayed there, warm and protected, the heavier my eyes became.
The questions still burned on my tongue, but I didn’t voice them.
Instead, I kept my mouth shut, snuggled until I found a more comfortable spot—with my face between his pecs, and my mouth inches from his hairy chest—and sank even deeper into him.
He practically had his arms wrapped around my head, but I didn’t care. It felt nice.
And honestly, with the way the dreams were kicking my ass lately, I felt safer than I had since the day I’d seen the aftermath of a sick serial killer.
As my eyes closed, and I felt myself drifting off to sleep, I came to the conclusion that this would have to be repeated every single night.
Every. Single. Night.
I wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Chapter 10
If I speak up, I’m going to cuss.
Parker
“Oh my God!”
I sat up in my Lay-Z-Boy chair and stared at the wall.
“Jesus Christ!”
I stood up.
“It burns!”
I walked out of my apartment, pulled out my keys, and then walked into hers.
On day four of my breaking and entering, she’d handed me a key as I’d left for my run the next morning.
Now I just walked in as I pleased during the night—which was almost every night over the last two weeks since she still had nightmares, and I couldn’t let her go through those alone.
I hustled to the bathroom only to see Kayla half wearing a pair of sweatpants.
She had a tube of something red in one hand, and a mini-lipstick wand looking thing she was using to smooth the lip shit on.
I’d seen my sister use it so many times that having it so near me right now brought back memories of my sister.
Until Kayla started to curse up a blue streak.
“Oh my God. I can’t feel my lips!”
I frowned and looked at her. “Why can’t you?”
“Because this Lipsense shit is burning them off!” she whined. “They feel like they’re bleeding. Are they bleeding?”
I looked at her lips. “No.”
At this point, my heart had slowed back down to manageable levels, and I finally took in the fact that her sweatpants weren’t her sweatpants…but mine.
“Where did you get those?” I asked.
She didn’t answer because she was busy trying to blow off her lips with her hairdryer.
“I would think if you’re wanting something to stop being hot, you wouldn’t want to blow it off with a hairdryer that blows out hot air,” I drawled.
She turned the blow dryer around and shot me right in the face with it.
I blinked, my eyes automatically watering at the feel of the air being forced into my eyes.