Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
And my day just got interesting. “I’m guessing Mr. T is Twitch?” She nods. “Okay, well I know how to get to his office. I can save you a few minutes by letting myself in?”
Her face relaxes instantly. “You have no idea how great that would be. I’m late picking up my daughter from after-school care and they close at six. I’m already stretching it.” Holding open the door for me, she quickly adds, “The elevator code is 2245. Go on up!”
Smiling at her, I nod and make my way through the now empty building. It’s so quiet here compared to the other day. It’s so eerie, that my body breaks out in goosebumps.
The elevator code works, and before I know it, I’m standing in front of the huge mahogany double doors that lead to the unknown. Raising my fisted hand, I hesitate to knock when I hear a groan and what sounds to be thumping.
My face flames.
Oh shit. He’s getting busy.
Suddenly, my stomach drops. That hurts in such an irrational way that I’m questioning my sanity. What’s worse is that I’m sure he’s doing it with his all-too-perfect bitch of a girlfriend.
I know I should walk away, but I…I just can’t.
Placing my hand on the lever handle, I press down as slow as I can and open the door an inch. When I see him, my heart stutters. Watching him through the crack, I smile and chuckle silently.
Well, that could’ve been embarrassing.
His shirtless back to me, I take in the artwork tattooed on him. His back is one big picture. What looks to be an angel – more accurately, a fallen angel – covers the length of him in one of the most realistic tattoos I have ever seen. The angel stands tall and proud in a tattered cloak of black, the wind blowing to one side separating the cloak, revealing a long, slender leg and bare foot. Her long blonde hair flares out to the side, the wind lifting the hood slightly to reveal her face. One side, gorgeous. The other, melted and disfigured.
I don’t understand what it means, but her face is so unashamed and filled with pride that it’s beautiful in a twisted way.
Panting with his back to me, he asks loudly, “You gonna stand there all night, or you gonna come in?”
Busted.
My face flames. Opening the door, I watch as he punches the boxing bag in the middle of his office before answering “Wasn’t sure if I was welcome.”
“You’re not.”
Well…shit.
That’s when he turns and adds with a smirk, “But that doesn’t stop me either.”
Walking over to his desk, he picks up a towel and pats down his face, arms, and heaving chest.
I knew he worked out.
“Like what you see?” Arrogant ass.
My eyes never leaving his body, I swallow hard. “Yeah.” When I see him step towards me, I quickly hold up my hands and step back. “No!” I say this in a way that you would say no to your dog for trying to steal your food. And it shocks Twitch. I know this because his eyebrows rise in disbelief. I’m shocked too. “Don’t. Not tonight. I just came here to say thank you.”
His brow furrows. “For what?”
“For the donation. For the money. I realized I never even said thank you, which was totally rude. My mom would be pissed at me. You have no idea how much we can do with that money. It’s…” I stop a moment, trying desperately to get my emotions under control. I whisper thickly, “It’s a godsend.”
He stops mid-step to watch me closely. His forever-hooded eyes lazily scrutinize me. His eyes narrow dangerously, “Don’t mention it.” Standing by the office door, feeling awkward and vulnerable, I could kiss him when his eyes crinkle in the corners. “I can show you how you can thank me.”
Smiling, I dip my chin. “Not tonight. I’m here purely for professional reasons.”
His brows rise again. “Is that right, Ms. Ballentine?” I nod and take in his muscular body as he seats himself on the edge of his desk.
Good lord, this man is a treat! I don’t know if I like him better shirtless or in the damn suit. I can’t decide. He’s lickable both ways.
Crossing his long legs in front of him, he asks curiously, “And what is your purpose here tonight, Alexa?” The way he says my name like that, it’s not just a word or name, it’s a caress.
Leaning back into the wall, I state quietly, nervously, “I want to know how you work. How your company works. I want to know what you do here.”
His face turns hard. I have no idea what I’ve said for that to happen, but my palms begin to sweat. Running his tongue over his teeth, he sniffs, then nods to the guest chair beside him. “Sit.”