Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 75240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Really, really couldn’t get past it.
I was to the point that I was literally about to beat the shit out of something or someone.
And I wanted it to be someone.
Mainly the date that Angie had said she’d had.
Which had me in my truck, driving straight over to Angie’s, without a backward glance.
I pulled into her driveway and immediately breathed a sigh of relief when I found her car already there.
Her mom’s car, as well as Ariel’s little hatchback, were there as well.
Which had a lot to do with why I went around the back way to the porch where Angie’s door that led out onto the back porch stood.
My anger only rose when I went to try the knob and found it unlocked.
To make matters worse, when I walked inside, it was to find her asleep. Naked on top of the sheets.
“This is some date,” I said, staring down at a sleeping Angie.
Chapter 21
Maybe she’s crazy. Maybe she was born with it. Maybe she just needs carbs.
-Things to consider
Angie
The sound of that voice, that achingly familiar voice, pulled me so hard from sleep that I was sitting up in bed before I’d even realized I’d done it.
My eyes snapped open, and I glared hard at the man standing at the foot of my bed.
I should’ve known he was going to come over here. Should. Have. Known.
“I didn’t say the date wasn’t going to be boring,” I snapped. “What are you doing here?”
He crossed his arms over his chest.
“I walked inside and didn’t even have to use a key,” he snapped back at me. “Do you want to be raped? Do you want to make it easier for someone to get into this house without the least bit of problem?”
I bared my teeth at him.
“Dramatic much?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
To be honest, I was tired as hell.
I’d stayed the entire day studying with Al for our final text next week, and I was not in the mood to deal with Bowe’s shit.
After the way he’d been acting the last week, I was seriously glad I’d ended it with him.
Okay, that was a lie.
I was happy that he was persistent.
What I wasn’t happy with was the fact that I still didn’t have an answer to why I’d overreacted. And overreacted big time.
I also sucked at apologies. Had a sick baby who fucking hated me and wanted Bowe, and I was a coward.
I hated to admit that seeing him made my heart do funny things in my chest.
I also hated that I was so stubborn that I couldn’t admit that I was the one who was wrong.
“No,” he uncrossed his arms and stared at me. “What’s dramatic is that I fucking love you. I want to marry you, and then you treat me like a fucking loser who purposefully did everything he could to make your life shit. Which, I might add, I didn’t. I did absolutely everything I could to make this work between us. And you shit on it.”
“I didn’t shit on it!” I yelled. “I didn’t…”
He interrupted me by yanking my foot, pulling me down the bed so roughly that I had no other recourse but to go or my foot would be yanked off.
His eyes were hard, and I had to swallow a cry of dismay at seeing that look aimed at me.
“You listen here,” he said. “I fucking love you. Every once in a while, I’m going to screw up. I’m going to piss you off and make you cry. I don’t mean to. I don’t want you to cry. But I will, because I’m a fucking human being. I’m not a machine. I have feelings. And this shit you’ve pulled these last two weeks was fucking trivial. You could’ve done just about anything to me, but leave, and I’d have been okay. But taking you and that little girl I’ve come to love with all my heart is not okay. It’s not even close to okay.”
I snapped my mouth shut.
He took my silence for what it was, agreement, and pulled me up by my hair while he came down at the same time.
Our lips met in a rush, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as if that was where it was meant to be all along.
My hands went to his skin, right under his ribs, cupping his large, tapered muscles that lined his sides. I immediately dug in with my nails, my heels slamming into the bed as I pushed up with my body.
That was what Bowe’s mouth on my neck did to me, though.
That was my spot. That was the one area he could always kiss that would automatically equal sex in some way, shape, or form.
“Jesus, Bowe,” I gasped, my hands going up under his arms to clutch his strong shoulders. “What are you doing to me?”