Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“…and if she ever puts her hands on you again, Cora, you call the police. I mean it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, of course,” I tell him. “I promise. I was… a little late with the rent this month, but that will be taken care of now.”
Stopping on a landing, he pulls me to him and fixes me with a steady look that borders on a glare. “That doesn’t give her the right to physically intimidate you.”
“Only you get to do that?” I ask before I can stop myself.
And then his mouth is on mine, and it doesn’t matter that the light in the hall is dim and covered in cobwebs or that some kind of rap music blares so loudly down the hall the balls of my feet are vibrating, or that it smells faintly like burnt microwaved popcorn and curry. None of that matters, because all I see is the blue of his eyes. All I hear is the pounding of my heart. All I smell is Liam, the brisk musk of his cologne, both soothing and classy, and everything else fades.
Every time he kisses me, a little part of me draws closer to him.
Every time he kisses me, I lose a little of the stronghold I have on my emotions.
Every time he kisses me, I’m more in danger of breaking rule number six and that cannot happen.
I pull away too soon, because I can’t let Bailey or Ben see us. Not like this.
“I need to get my things,” I say, pulling away too soon and not letting myself look into those eyes for one more second. I take out my keys and face the door.
“I… I have to admit, I wish I hadn’t invited you up here,” I tell him. “Please keep in mind our place is very… simple.” My hands are shaking so badly I can’t fit the key in the lock. I turn my back to him so he doesn’t see, but it doesn’t matter. His hand dwarfs mine, steadying my trembling fingers, and he glides the key in the lock but doesn’t turn it quite yet.
“I didn’t come here to look at your apartment or eat a gourmet meal,” he tells me. “I came here because you’re mine for the next two months, and I keep what’s mine safe.”
I don’t know how I feel about what he said. I like that he came up with me. I like that he’s calling me his. I shouldn’t, but I do.
But… I’m only his by contract, so that makes this act of chivalry really for his benefit.
Or something.
I think.
Doesn’t it?
He pushes the door open before I can sort my thoughts. Bailey’s laying on the couch, ear buds in, singing her heart out, and Ben is sitting at the dining room table with the same Lego set he’s been building and reconstructing for six months. He freezes when we walk in, his large eyes rounded in surprise at the sight of Liam.
I don’t blame him. Not only is Liam dressed for the office, he’s huge and intimidating, taking up the whole doorway.
“Hi,” I say, and Bailey still doesn’t realize I’m home, as her eyes are closed while she’s crooning to the music. “Um, Bailey?” I say, casting a sideways glance to Liam. His lips twitch, but he tucks his hands in his pocket and steps inside the door, trying to be as unobtrusive as he can, which is honestly not super effective. Shutting the door, he checks the lock, then frowns when he realizes there’s no deadbolt. I don’t miss the disproving look he shoots me. I shrug. Something tells me we’ll be talking about that later.
Why do I like how ridiculously overprotective he is? How he gets angry at the thought of my safety? I don’t mean anything to him. This is really nothing but a front.
“Hi,” Ben says. “Wow. Who are you?”
Liam reaches his hand out to shake Ben’s. “Liam,” he says. “And you’re Ben?”
Bailey chooses that moment to open her eyes, and her reaction would be comical if I wasn’t so on edge. She squeals and tries to sit up, but in her excitement, she topples sideways off the couch and falls to the floor on hands and knees.
Ben snorts with laughter and Liam starts coughing, which sounds suspiciously like he’s trying to cover up a laugh himself.
“Um, hi, guys,” I say. Bailey tries to get to her feet gracefully, but her earbuds are wrapped around her ear and her hair’s askew, and the poor thing’s bright red in the face.
“Hi,” she manages weakly. I motion for her to take her ear buds out, and she scrambles to do it, her cheeks flushing.
“So, um. This is Liam,” I say. And to my relief, Liam isn’t looking at the worn sofa and thin walls, the carpet that’s so old and worn it’s little more than tatters, the cheap linoleum floor in the kitchen or the bare lightbulb that hangs from the ceiling. He’s reaching a hand out to Bailey and giving her the warmest smile I’ve ever seen from him.