Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“Ready?” His hand is out, giving me no other option except to take it, and when I do, I’m not prepared for the way he makes me feel. I am well and truly fucked.
FIVE
Theo
I don’t let her hand go, not when she’s out of the car, standing beside me, not when we’re walking up toward her apartment. Danica tried to take her hand away from mine, but I wasn’t having it, pulling her closer to my body in order to avoid others on the sidewalk and keeping her there. The way she made it seem when I parked my car was that the neighborhood isn’t all that great, and while I can understand where she’s coming from, I’m pretty sure in the ten minutes it takes me to walk her, I won’t walk back out to someone having hot wired my car. In fact, I’d like to see them fucking try. The car is equipped with more shit than even I was aware, auto locking itself down if someone tries to tamper with the handle. The most that could happen is I’d come out with the car on jacks with no tires.
“This is me,” Danica says once we stop in front of her building. I look at her. She tightens her hold on the backpack strap, gripping it as if it were a life vest and she’s stranded out at sea.
“Lead the way. I’ll walk you to your door, and then you can get rid of me.” I wink, teasing her. Never in my life have I had to work to get a woman to at least pretend to like me. God, if my fucking brothers could see me now, they’d be having the last laugh.
“Theo, you’ve done more than enough. I’m sure you have better things to do with your evening than walk up three flights of stairs to watch me walk inside.” My eyes narrow on hearing her taking the stairs. “I do this all the time at least twice a day. Now, it was great meeting you, but I really have to get to class.” I let her hand go when she pulls away, allowing it this time. I know she has no problem with elevators, and after working as much as she does, the last thing anyone wants to do is climb three fucking flights when you’re dead on your damn feet.
“I’m still walking you up.” I open the door to the entrance. The keypad is clearly old and dated. Fucking thing probably doesn’t work, and if I could hazard a guess, it’s been years since it has. Danica grumbles under her breath, ducking under my arm as she goes. “Is the elevator broken?” My eyes sweep the place—peeling paint, dim lighting, and a few of the mailboxes are hanging open. Danica and the tenants here don’t deserve this. Rent in New York, no matter the area, is fucking steep as hell.
“Fine,” she puffs out, annoyance tinging her tone yet again. I don’t reply. I’m too busy following her up the first flight of stairs, hand at the railing when she tosses her head over her shoulder. “Don’t touch that.” My hand falls away, and I wonder what the heck else is going on in her apartment building.
“Got it,” I reply. I’d bet that damn banister is coming away from the steps. Great, now my head is filled with all kinds of things that could happen to Danica. A fire swarming the building, and she’s trying to get out without burning to a damn crisp, being trampled on because there’s only one fucking entrance and exit. Unless there’s a fire escape. Highly doubtful with what I’m seeing so far. I turn my attention back to Danica, the soft sway of her hips as she takes another step, lean body with a slightly muscled tone. It’s obvious the woman works more than most others do, holding down two jobs while going to school.
“You doing okay back there?” Danica snickers over her shoulder. Gone is the serious, unapproachable, hands-fucking-off woman, and in its place is what I’m noticing is a different person once she feels comfortable around you. Don’t get me wrong, she’s still busting my balls all the while keeping shit locked up tight.
“You think one flight of stairs could wear me out?” We’ve stopped on the second-floor landing. Her body is still. The backpack she was carrying on one shoulder slides to her forearm. I move closer, whispering in her ear before she can answer, “It takes a lot more than this to wear me out.”
“We’ll see about that. A man who wears business suits five out of the seven days a week and sits behind a desk all day, I highly doubt that.” She recovers after a beat or two, and when she does, I’m out to prove a point. I move from behind her, meeting her gaze head on, and don’t bother to respond. Instead, I dip my body, shoulder meeting her stomach, and she’s hanging over me, hands gripping my sides, and I feel her small fingers dig into me through the two layers of fabric. My arm bands around the back of her thighs as I hold her in place while I walk a few steps.