Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
“MPs.” She sighs. “They’re power-hungry fools. Arrogant, chauvinistic pigs. Not all of them, but the ones I had the pleasure of dealing with all were. I was just a skirt to order around. It started with a few discreet touches that I didn’t challenge because I knew I’d be out the door in a heartbeat. Then the touches started moving to places where—”
“Okay, stop.” That’s enough. The anger is building already, and we haven’t gotten to the crux of the story yet. I can live without the sordid details. I have to, or risk being locked up.
Lainey relents easily, probably relieved. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you are.” I sigh. “I know.” Fuck me, what a morning.
“Come back to bed,” she pleads, giving me a hopeful smile. “Please?” She removes herself from my lap and offers her hand. Who am I to refuse? I take it and rise to my feet, slowly because my foot still hurts like a bitch. “Are you limping?” She frowns at my legs. “Shit, Tyler, what’s happened to your foot?”
“I kicked the cupboard,” I grumble, solemnly regretting my choice of venting. I should have punched a wall.
Her lips straighten. “Do you have any ice?”
I point to the far side of the kitchen. “In the freezer. Bottom drawer.”
Grabbing a fresh bag of cubes and a tea towel, Lainey comes back to me, dodging the mess of broken mugs and glass on the floor, and cocks out her arm for me to take. “Does it hurt bad?”
I accept her offer of help, mortified that I actually need it. “Not so bad.” I wince the second I try to put some weight on it, and Lainey looks up at me on a disapproving shake of her head. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to tolerate the pain as we make our way to the bedroom. “You can be my nursemaid tonight.” I drop to my arse on the side of the bed.
“Bed bath?”
I grin and grab her, yanking her down onto my body. “Fuck my foot. Fuck the ice. Fuck the fucking bed bath.” I roll us until she’s trapped beneath me. “Nurse Summer, ready for your internal?”
“Tyler.” She bursts into laughter, but soon shuts up when I kiss my way down to her pussy, pull her knickers aside, and start fucking her with my tongue, her giggles turning into moans. This could be seen as marking her, claiming her, I realize that. But my girl is happy, and as much as I possibly should know more about what happened to her, it mostly doesn’t matter. Because she came out the other side so determined, and that has to be one of the main attributes I love about her.
Okay. And her pussy, too.
I WASN’T HAPPY ABOUT IT, but I dropped Lainey home yesterday evening as she apparently had stuff to do with her sister. As much as I don’t want to spend any nights apart, we’re not at living with each other stage yet. I missed her though. Truly missed her. I ended up calling Mum and having a chat, and as you can imagine, Lainey was discussed in great length. Then I killed the time clearing up the carnage in my kitchen and fixing the cupboard door.
I arrive at the office on a mild limp. Getting my right shoe on this morning required a shoe horn, and I hissed and spat my way through it. I’m walking like I could have shit myself, despite my best efforts to uphold my usual swagger.
When the elevator doors slide open, my hand comes up ready to accept my coffee. Except there’s no coffee awaiting me, and there’s no PA either. On a groan mixed with irritation and worry—more worry—I traipse toward my office, bracing myself for her wrath, while preparing my speech. Gina’s face yesterday morning when I booted her out of my apartment is still playing heavily on my mind. She was injured. Shocked. I need to make this right. If she’s even here. Shit, is she here? Has she quit?
I hobble around the corner to my office on a held breath, and it only releases when I spot Gina at her desk engrossed on the screen of her computer. Thank God. “Morning,” I chirp, trying to be normal. It’s a cop-out. What would be normal here would be demanding to know where my coffee is, but I doubt that would go down very well right now. I should have called her yesterday. Not to grovel, but definitely to apologize. We had both been in the wrong, me more so.
The look she throws me is fierce, and I get no polite greeting in return. “Why are you limping?”
“I kicked a cupboard.”
“That’s a bit dumb.” She goes back to her computer and starts tapping away at the keys, giving me no sympathy whatsoever.