Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Why did you do that?” I park my hands on my hips.
“You are on medication that can’t be mixed with alcohol,” he states.
Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.
“You aren’t the boss of me,” I tell him. “In fact, I don’t like you at all.”
“Liar,” he says, his voice low and sexy, as the sales lady brings out a glass of orange juice. I take it from her and drink it before I sit down. Zuko sits next to me as she displays all the clothes in front of us. I’m too in tune with how close he is to fully concentrate.
She asks him if he would like any color other than black, to which he replies with a simple, “No.” She says something else, but it all jumbles together as his hand lands on my thigh and squeezes. My eyes are glued to his hand.
“Trouble.” I look up at him through my eyelashes and see a soft smile on his lips.
“It’s the medication,” I explain. His lips fight a smirk as his eyes search mine.
“I’m sure it is. Now, do you want anything?”
When I look away from him, I see the lady smiling at me, waiting for me to answer.
“I—” Before I can even finish, she brings two things out from behind her—black boots that are snug on the ankle and a matching bag—and a huge grin lights up my face.
“We’ll take them as well. Bag it all up, please.” Her expression shows how happy she is. I’m not sure Zuko will be once he knows the price tag on those boots, or that bag, for that matter.
But will he care? a small part of me asks.
“Trouble.” He grips my thigh and places a finger under my chin, turning my head, so I’m facing him. I grind my molars as my eyes slowly lift to meet his. “I really like you, Trouble.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I taunt as I feel my cheeks redden.
“No, in fact, I don’t. There was one girl who was close.”
“Who?” I ask as his fingers stroke my jaw.
“You wouldn’t know her.” He stands, his fingers falling away from my face, then offers me his hand to help me up.
“Do you still talk to her?”
“Why? If I said yes, would you attempt to burn something else down?”
“What do you have left?” I ask sassily as we head to the counter.
“I’m afraid to tell you.” He smirks.
I nudge his shoulder with mine as we reach the counter. “Come on…tell me.”
He locks his gaze on mine as the sales lady rings up the items. When she says the total, he hands her his black card without even glancing her way, his eyes solely on me.
“The only thing that would affect me, as you have seen, is you getting hurt.” At first, I want to smile at that, but then I remember how he likes to fuck. My mouth drops into a frown, and he notices straight away.
“What?” he asks.
Raising a brow at him, I tell him what’s in my thoughts.
“What about the bag?” I don’t want to freak the lady out by asking about the knife, but I’m sure he gets it.
“If that really does bother you as much as you say it does, I won’t do it again.”
Zuko picks up the bags, and we leave the shop.
“That’s not fair to you; it’s clearly your kink.”
“Why wouldn’t it be fair to me?”
We get to the car, and he puts all the bags in the back before he comes and opens my door.
“We aren’t a thing. You get that, right?” I stand in the space between the door and the seat, and he steps closer until he is almost touching me. But he’s careful not to.
“We aren’t?” He raises a brow in question.
“No, we are not. To be a thing, two people have to agree.”
“I agree for both of us,” he informs me, not even joking.
“Ha!” I give him an unimpressed look and get in the car. He shuts my door, rounds the hood, and climbs in. “Where are we going?” I ask.
“Home,” he informs me as he starts the car.
“Just in case you’ve forgotten, you don’t have a home anymore.” I can’t help but say it with a smile.
“Oh, I know. I have a new one.”
“Already?” I reply, surprised.
“Yes, and we should be arriving soon.” I’m amazed he is even going to take me there, especially after what I did. But when we pull down a familiar street, I turn to face him.
“This isn’t the way.” I stare out the window as my apartment comes into view. “Oh God, did you buy one on my block?”
“Nope.” He brings the car to a stop and then turns to me.
“Why are we here?” I’m afraid of the answer.
“Because I’m moving in. Now, do you need help getting out of the car?” he asks casually, and I can’t seem to pick my jaw up to close my mouth.