Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Well, that’s rude.”
“That’s honest. I don’t play games, and I don’t lead women on.” I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close, then duck my face until it’s an inch from hers. “I’m gonna say it one more time and pray to god this shit finally sinks in. I like you. I like spending time with you. I want this thing with you to work out even though you are frustrating as fuck.”
“How was I supposed to know?” she asks, forcing me to my back and glaring down at me. “Obviously you haven’t dated recently,” she huffs, tossing her leg over my hip and pointing in my face once she’s straddling me. “The whole dating scene is a mess. You never know when a guy is really interested; you never know what the hell is going on, and you’re constantly left questioning every single thing that happens,” she growls, sliding off me and the bed and beginning to pace across her room.
Watching her breasts bounce with each step and the way her hair moves over her shoulders as she tosses her head, I fight my own growl. “So sorry for not assuming that we’re in a relationship.” Her eyes narrow on mine as she plants her hands on her hips, tossing her head to the side. “And stop checking me out and making me all dizzy when I’m annoyed with you.”
“I make you dizzy?” I smile smugly, and she huffs, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. “I can’t help it, baby. Swear to god, you’re adorable when you’re flustered, but when you’re pissed, you’re fucking exquisite,” I tell her honestly, and she tosses her arms in the air.
“You think I’m frustrating?” She points at me. “You’re the one who’s frustrating.” She moves across the room to the closet and pushes it open, grabbing a sweatshirt and pulling it on over her head before bending over and giving me a view of her ass, right before it’s covered with a pair of sweats, that has my teeth clenching together.
Watching her start to stomp past me to the bathroom, I grab hold of her wrist and drag her to stand between my spread thighs. “Are you done being mad?” I ask, grabbing her hips. She rolls her eyes.
“I’m not mad, I’m annoyed.”
“Why are you annoyed?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“I don’t know, I just am,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. I fight back a grin.
“All right, then, where are you going?”
“I have to take Muffin out.” She shrugs, then softly moves her fingers through my hair like she’s already forgotten she’s annoyed with me.
“I’ll take her. It’s cold out, baby.” While she shakes her head, her face softens.
“It’s okay. I want to go to Gino’s and get a bagel with smoked-salmon cream cheese while I’m out.”
“All right, I’ll go with you.” I stand, forcing her back a step, then wrap my hand around her jaw, tilting her head back. Leaning down, I press a quick kiss to her upturned lips, then tap her bottom. “Go on—we’ll have to stop at my place so I can clean up.” I send her on her way to the bathroom. Putting on the clothes I wore over last night, I sit down to put on my sneakers, then stand when she comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later.
“Time to get up,” she says toward the bed, where Muffin has now sprawled out across the entire surface. Lifting her fur-covered head, she looks at Fawn, tips her head to the side studying her, then lays it back down on her paws with a huff.
“Baby, seriously, she needs some training, at least enough that she’ll listen to you. It’s not safe. She’s as big as you are, and I know for a fact she can drag you around.”
“I know, I signed us up for doggie classes after the park incident,” she says, taking a seat on the edge of her bed to slip on a pair of sneakers. “Our first class is soon.”
“Good. Has she ever done that before?”
“No, but once when I took her out, I literally had to carry her home two blocks because she refused to walk home.”
“How big was she then?” I ask, looking at Muffin, who probably weighs as much as Fawn does soaking wet.
“Just about seventy pounds. That’s not even the worst part—it was pouring rain, so by the time we got home, I smelled like a wet dog. I didn’t even have time to shower before I had to get to work.”
“Jesus.”
“I know. Thankfully, that only happened once, but it was so bad I don’t ever want it to happen again,” she says, then looks at Muffin as she stands.
“Come on, girl, let’s go outside.” With a groan Muffin rolls over and stands on the bed before hopping off and walking to my side, leaning her weight into me. “You know most dogs like going outside?” I tell her, giving her head a rub.