Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Too bad you have such a shit game,” I say, walking backward so I can see him. “Or you could’ve joined me in that shower.”
My laughter trails me as I jog back to the house.
“She’s strong and fearless … and wildly, ridiculously beautiful.”
I’m not sure what just happened, but I know he’ll need time to process that.
And maybe, so will I.
Chapter Twelve
Dahlia
I scrunch the ends of my wet hair with a towel and look at myself in the foggy bathroom mirror. My cheeks are rosy, and despite my earlier nap, there are bags beneath my eyes. But, by far, the worst part of the image looking back at me is my hair. I rack my brain, trying to remember what I shoved in my bag last night before I left for Morgan’s. I know I packed a detangling comb. It must’ve fallen out of my cosmetics bag inside my backpack.
How was that just last night?
I take a step back and look at my reflection again.
Troy’s shirt, a soft black fabric that smells faintly of his cologne, hits me mid-thigh. My clothes from Morgan’s were soaked, thanks to a smashed water bottle buried in my stuff. Luckily, there was a stack of Troy’s clean T-shirts on the bathroom counter. Figuring he wouldn’t mind, I helped myself to one.
The feeling of his shirt against my naked skin is more erotic than it should be. Every time the material brushes against my nipples or swishes against my ass cheeks, a rush of energy shoots through me as if Troy was touching me himself.
A girl can freaking wish.
I dry my hair again and head into the bedroom to search for my comb. I come to a screeching halt when Troy appears in the doorway to the hall. Black sweatpants, no shirt—the man is a whole damn meal.
I’m not sure I’m strong enough for this.
He looks me up and down, taking his time as he gazes at the length of my body. I don’t mind. It affords me a moment to drink him in, too.
“Nice shirt,” he says, lifting his eyes from my tits to my face.
“Didn’t think you’d mind. Hope you don’t mind. It was this or I was going naked. All my clothes are soaked from an exploded water bottle.”
He rolls a suitcase into the room and places it by the closet. “Your stuff came. Grey dropped it off a little while ago.”
“Should we unpack or just assume this might be over tomorrow?”
Troy frowns. “I don’t think it’ll be over that fast. Stay positive but base it in reality.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“They’re tracing the IP address from the email and looking at security footage from your neighborhood. Ford has someone tailing Freddy, too.” His brows pull together. “What kind of name is that, anyway? Freddy. Did his mother hate him?”
I grin. “I hope whoever’s tailing him likes strip clubs because that’s where he spent the past couple of weeks of our relationship.” Or likely through our relationship, but I don’t really give a damn now.
“Did you know my first job at Landry Security, once I left Barrett’s team, was at a strip club?”
I laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. These two football players, Best and Miller from the Legends, came to town. They just won the big game and were in town to party with someone. Can’t remember who. Anyway, Sebastian and I were assigned to them for the weekend, and I saw more asses shaking, tits bouncing, and bills flying than I’ve ever seen for a continued stretch of time in my life.”
“I’m jealous. Not of the strip club, per se,” I say, adding the last bit in quickly. “But you guys have such exciting jobs. Office work isn’t fun.”
“But you have Snack Wednesdays.”
“Shut up.” I laugh, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I want to go into the field and work, even if it’s only for one job.”
“Not happening.”
“Love the opinion, but let’s remember you aren’t my boss.”
He lifts a brow. “Sure.”
“Don’t patronize me. You know I could talk Ford into letting me try it.”
“Until I threaten to quit. Then your cute little ass will be back behind your desk.”
I gasp.
He shakes his head. “Look, I don’t mean that like it sounds. I’m not one of those assholes that thinks a woman should be in the office or the kitchen. That’s bullshit. But I do think you, specifically, aren’t equipped to deal with shooters, home invasions, and men with knives. Do a few years of training and then come talk to me.”
I smile.
“But you’re still not going out there.”
“Troy!” I laugh again, pulling the blankets down. “Have you felt this mattress yet? It’s a freaking cloud.”
He presses his palms on the bed. “You shouldn’t have a hard time sleeping in here.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll take the couch.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I turn away from him, so he won’t see the disappointment on my face. It’s not like I expected him to fuck me or anything, but I did hope I wouldn’t be alone. I’ve kept it together all day, and I’m proud of myself for that. But the night? Nights hit differently after a good day. This has not generally been one of those.