Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 48700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
He sets me down on my feet as soon as we're over the threshold, a wicked grin playing on his lips. "Alright, Toto. You can pee now."
"Thanks, Wizard," I snap back, scowling daggers at him. I should probably hate his stupid nickname for me, but I honestly kind of love it. It's ridiculous, but so is he. And every damn time he says it, I think about what he said that day in his office. Toto was the best part of the movie to him. He was always my favorite part, too.
Ignoring Memphis's amused expression, I hurry to the toilet and close the door behind me. The sound of running water reaches my ears, and I realize that he's preparing the shower while I take care of business.
When I step out of the private toilet area, steam billows around the spacious bathroom. Memphis stands under the hot spray, water sluicing down his tattooed body. I stop mid-step, staring at him.
Lord, he's gorgeous.
He sees me staring and grins, his cobalt eyes running down my body. He crooks a finger, beckoning me toward him. "You better get in here before I have to come get you, princess."
I bite my lip, my core clenching. For a brief moment, I consider making him come and get me. But I have a feeling if I do, it's going to end with me running through this big ass house with him chasing me. And when he catches me, he'll deliver more orgasms than I can safely handle at the moment.
Considering that my body is still tingling from his touch, I go with option two.
I scurry toward the shower, allowing him to pull me inside. He slams the door behind me, plastering his body to mine.
"Knew you'd see it my way," he breathes, his lips touching mine in a sweet kiss before he pushes me beneath the hot spray.
"Memphis, what are you doing?" I ask, trying to sound more exasperated than intrigued. Hot water cascades down on us, shutting out the world.
"Taking care of you." His voice softens as he reaches for the shower gel. "You're mine now. That means I look after you in every way, Toto."
"Is that so?" I ask, raising an eyebrow even as my heart flutters at his words. He's the most complicated man I've ever met, but I think I want him to care for me—even if it is in his domineering, bossy way. There's something endearing about it, as if he's never done it before and doesn't know the first thing about it but is trying like hell to get it right anyway.
"Damn right," he growls, lathering up a washcloth with the tip of his tongue caught between his lips. He gently runs it over my body, his touch is surprisingly tender as he cleans me, and I can't help but lean into him, craving the intimacy between us. "Now, hush and let me do my job, and then I'll drive you home."
"Fine," I concede, fighting a smile as I surrender another piece of myself into his hands.
An hour later, the hotel I've been living in looms in front of us, and Memphis's grip on the steering wheel of his truck tightens so much his knuckles turn white.
"You're living here?" he growls, his voice a deep rumble that spells trouble.
"It's only temporary." It's not the best hotel in the city, but it's not the worst, either. There are no millionaire musicians here, but it's not a pay-by-the-hour place, either. Everything is clean and orderly, and it's in a decent area within walking distance of the bar.
"Hell no." He pulls into the parking lot and kills the engine.
"What?" I ask, genuinely confused by his sudden rage. There are far worst places than this. We passed a few on the way here.
"You've been living in a hotel." His voice drops an entire octave.
"Yes. I just said it's only temporary." I wasn't even sure how long I'd be in Nashville when I got here. It didn't make sense to rent an apartment. And now…well, now things are more complicated than ever.
"Fuck no." He pockets the keys and levels me with a look that could put the devil himself to shame. "Get your shit."
"What?" I blink at him, not sure what he's freaking out about. "Why?"
"Get your shit, Toto. You're coming home with me," he growls, impatience etched into every line of his face.
I gape at him, struck silent.
"You aren't living in a fucking hotel when I have a goddamn mansion. You can stay with me."
"I'm not moving in with you!" I cry, staring at him like he just grew a second head. We just slept together for the first time last night. Now he wants me to move in? He's lost his mind.
"Yeah, you are." The finality in his tone leaves no room for arguments, but I can't help myself. Of course, I argue.