Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
My head tilts to the side and my hair slides over my shoulder. He twines a long curl around his finger as I ask, “It does?” My heart gives a happy flutter at the thought.
He holds out his hand. “Pull up your boss’s number and give me your phone so I can let him know you’re mine now.”
Before I realize it, my hand reaches into my purse, and I’m doing exactly what he asks. I don’t stop him when he presses the button to place the call that will take away my only source of income. The one that lets me afford my share of the rent on my apartment, and clothes, and food. And I don’t stop him when I hear my boss’s voice yelling over the line because he’s angry about me blowing off my other gig today.
“I guess it’s a good thing I won’t need that job anymore since that bridge is definitely burned,” I grumble after he ends the call. I should be more upset, but I hated my boss. He was a jerk.
“You’re better off with that bridge burned.” He tucks my phone into the pocket of his sweatpants before bending down to brush his lips over mine.
“Better off?”
“You’re destined for bigger and better things.” His lips kick up in a grin when my eyes go wide with surprise. “Don’t forget, I’ve heard you sing.”
“Ohh,” I breathe out. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
This time, it’s his eyes that widen. “That’s a damn shame because you deserve to have people in your life who treat you like the amazing person you are.” His eyes go soft.
“We just met. You don’t know what kind of person I am.”
“I know enough to be fascinated by you, and it won’t be long before I learn everything else,” he insists as my stomach lets out a loud growl. He gently grips my wrist and leads me back to the stool where I’d been sitting. After he gets me settled on it, he pulls a stack of take-out containers out of the first bag, and bottles of soda, wine, and water from the second.
I snag a garlic knot from the first box he opens and let out a little moan of pleasure when I pop it into my mouth. “Mmm, so good.” I only had a handful of M&Ms when I went running out the door this morning for work.
“Holy fuck,” Theo groans. “That sound.” Dropping his head low, he fists his hands so tight that his knuckles turn white.
I lift my hand to cover my mouth and apologize. “Sorry. I didn’t eat much for breakfast, skipped lunch, and Italian is my favorite.”
“Shit, I’m already fucking up, letting you go hungry.” He whips open the rest of the boxes and grabs a couple of plates. Then he dishes out some lasagna, spaghetti with meatballs, and chicken marsala onto one of them and slides it over to me. “Eat up, baby, and I’ll pour you something to drink. Pick your poison”—he gestures towards the bottles on the counter—“I have ice for the soda, more water in the fridge, a bottle of white wine around here somewhere, if you don’t like the red, and vodka or rum if you’d prefer a mixed drink.”
Since my mouth is full, I point at one of the bottles of soda. After he slides a glass with ice toward me, I explain, “You probably shouldn’t offer me alcohol since I’m not old enough to drink yet.”
His body jerks and his hand stills mid-air, the lasagna sliding precariously around the spoon he’s holding. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
He heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck for that.”
With my cheeks heating again, I jerk my chin at the spoon in his hand. “You should probably serve that before it ends up on the counter.”
He finishes dishing out his food and moves around the counter to take the stool next to me. He slides it closer, and his thigh bumps against mine when he sits down and starts to dig into his meal. “Eat up, baby. You’re going to need the energy later.”
The energy? My head jerks up. “Oh, right. Because I’ll need to pack up my stuff and move it here if I’m going to stay with you for the next couple of months.”
“First of all, there’s no ‘if’ about it. You’re not going anywhere,” he grunts as he stabs his fork into a bite of the chicken on my plate and lifts it up to my lips. It tastes even better knowing that fork has just been inside his mouth, and I moan again. “I’m definitely not letting you out of my sight when you make sounds like that.”
“It’s not my fault! This is the best Italian food I’ve ever tasted.”
He feeds me another bite before saying, “You can have it every day if you want. Whatever it takes to keep you happy.”