Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
An amused grin stretches across his face. “I didn’t,” he says, softly chuckling to himself. “I was in bed the whole fucking time. I hate to break it to you, Mace. But that shit was all in your head. I was never in your apartment that night. At least, not until after you’d gone back to your place. Then I came over to play. But what you heard when you were in the shower was just your paranoia fucking with you. Why the hell do you think I ran across the hall so fast? If it wasn’t me, that meant it was someone else, and I’m the only bastard who’s allowed to be sneaking through your apartment and fucking with your head. I was ready to tear some random asshole to shreds, but it turns out, your imagination is just as wild as you are in bed.”
My cheeks flush, and I let my gaze fall away, not sure if I’m supposed to be happy that there was no one there or concerned that my head was screwing with me just as much as Alex was.
“So, what about the night you took me along the river walk and we got back to find my door kicked in? I had assumed that was Crew, but a part of me had also wondered if it was the stalker.”
He gives me a blank stare. “I’m gonna give you a minute to think that one over,” he says, a smug grin pulling at his lips.
My brows furrow, and I think back over my question, wondering what the hell he’s getting at when it hits me. Alex couldn’t have kicked my door in. He was with me all night. But during that time, I hadn’t considered the fact that Alex and my stalker could have been one and the same. In the back of my mind, I hadn’t bothered to connect those dots, and now that I’ve said it out loud, I feel like a complete idiot.
“Forget I asked,” I say, my cheeks flushing all over again.
Alex laughs and grabs my waist, rolling us until he hovers over me. He slowly inches toward me, his lips barely a breath away. “I fucking love you, Kyah,” he rumbles as his hand trails down to my thigh, hitching it up over his hip. “But if you ask me about another man while I’m in bed with you, I’ll hang you by your wrists and fuck you until you can’t even remember your name.”
I swallow hard, a thrill pulsing through me, and before I can even respond, he crushes his lips down to mine and kisses me until the darkest night turns into day.
40
KYAH
It’s late on Tuesday night when Alex leads me down a familiar street before coming to a stop outside of High Voltage Ink, and I turn to look at him with furrowed brows. “What are we doing here?” I ask. Though I should just be happy that I’m not chained to a bed in some old run-down home, but I’m not going to lie, despite the cuff around my wrist, those three days with Alex were some of the most thrilling days I’ve ever had.
“We’ve got a lot to talk about,” he tells me, taking my bag off my shoulder and digging through it until he comes out with the keys to the shop.
“Okay. We could have done that at my place,” I say slowly. “Or when you had me locked up for three days.”
Alex rolls his eyes. “I’d hardly call it locked up.”
“I was chained to a bed.”
“Jesus Christ, baby. You’re acting like I’m some kind of psychopathic serial killer. You were safe with me. I wasn’t going to hurt you. Not unless you wanted me to.”
I arch a brow and give him a blank stare. “You are a psychopathic serial killer,” I remind him. “And I never suggested I wasn’t safe with you. I know you’re not going to hurt me, but that doesn’t mean we don’t need to have a very big talk about what society deems normal behavior. Because somewhere along the lines, you’ve got your wires crossed. Chaining women to beds isn’t normal.”
Alex scoffs and shoves the key into the front door of High Voltage Ink. “What I was trying to say is that we have a lot to talk about. I know you have a lot of questions and you’re not going to stop overthinking shit until you get the answers you’re looking for. And I think it’s best we have this conversation while you’re calm, and I’ve never seen you more relaxed than when you were working on my tattoo.”
A soft smile pulls at my lips, butterflies swarming through the pit of my stomach, realizing how well he notices the small things about me. When I’m working, the whole world fades away. A zombie apocalypse could be raging through the streets of Brooklyn, and as long as I was working on a design, I’d have no idea.