Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
He looks like he’s right about to throw her across the room. It’s very clear he isn’t interested and was likely about to stop her before I came in.
“God, lady, have some class,” I say, stopping in front of them.
She turns and glares at me. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m his woman, can you take your hand off his cock, please?”
Her eyes widen and she jerks her hand out of his pants.
“Shoo,” I say to her. She turns and scurries away.
“That’s gross, you don’t know where her hands have been,” I say to Beckett.
“What do you want?” he mutters, and it’s clear he’s as drunk as I am.
Should be fun.
“I’m looking for Eve.”
“She’s gone.”
“What do you mean she’s gone?” I squeak.
“She left with Riggs, ‘bout an hour ago.”
I shake my head. He’s clearly got it wrong. “You’re mistaken, I am staying at her house tonight. She wouldn’t have left without me.”
“Hate to break it to ya,” he murmurs, leaning down close, “but you’re sleepin’ here tonight.”
God dammit.
I try to call Eve, but she doesn’t answer. I try to call Ramona, but she left with Adan apparently. This is why I don’t make friends, they always leave me behind. There is no way I’m staying at this club. I need a bed. Stat. I’m so damned drunk. I grab Beckett’s arm as he goes to walk away.
“What?” he growls.
“Where are you staying?”
“I’m goin’ home, right now.”
“Take me with you,” I plead.
“No fuckin’ way.”
“Please,” I beg. “You’re supposed to be watching me. If you don’t take me, I’ll run. I’ll run and you’ll have to explain yourself tomorrow.”
He glares at me. “You’re a fuckin’ pain in my ass.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch, you won’t hear from me.”
He mutters something, then snaps, “Hurry up then.”
I follow him outside, stumbling more than once as I go. God, I swear, I’m going to pass out if I don’t lie down soon. The second I hit the fresh air, my head spins and I find myself pausing so I can fight off the sickness swirling around in my stomach, threatening to come up.
“What the fuck are you doin’?” Beckett asks, pausing and watching me as I stand, stupidly, trying not to move.
“I feel sick.”
“Fuck me.”
“No, thank you,” I moan and then lean forward and puke into the bushes that are thankfully quite close beside me.
Horrified, I stand when I’m done and look guiltily over at Beckett who is watching me with his arms crossed. He is probably disgusted right now, wondering why the hell he agreed to let me come home with him.
“I’m sorry,” I squeak.
“Let’s go.”
No sympathy. I expected as much.
We get into a cab and the drive seems to take forever. Eve tries to call a few times, but I can’t be bothered reaching into my purse to get my phone. So, I ignore it. We arrive at Beckett’s apartment and pay the cab driver.
I wish I could say I am paying attention as we walk inside the large, two-story apartment but I’m not. I want a shower, food, and a bed. Beckett flicks the light on in the kitchen and turns to me. “Hungry?”
“Yes, oh god yes.”
“Shower is upstairs to your right, I’ll make something.”
“Thank you.”
I stumble up the stairs, tripping over more than once and laughing hysterically at myself. I finally make it to the large bathroom and find myself a towel, before clumsily stripping out of my clothes and getting into the warm, beautiful water. I stand in there for a while and finally feel a little more human. I get out, dry off, and put my clothes back on, horrified to be wearing them again. I stare at myself in the mirror, and I look like a hot mess. My hair is tangled, and I look like I haven’t slept in a week. Ugh, girl, get it together.
I wash my face, properly this time, and borrow Beckett’s brush for my hair. Then I laugh because I’m borrowing a man’s brush. As I go to put it back in the drawer, I decide to do a little snooping and open the cabinets. I find a whole section full of women’s products and my eyes widen. Hello, there. Why would Beckett have this many women’s products if he doesn’t have a woman?
I will uncover what’s going on here. I pull out some, and they’re definitely fresh and not old. The face cream looks like it has been well used and the perfumes are all at least half empty. Someone is using these frequently. I close the cupboard and walk back out, heading down the stairs and into the kitchen where I can smell the delicious scent of pizza.
I round the corner and see Beckett sitting at the table, a whole plate of delicious pizza in front of him. I rush over and sit down, picking up a piece.