Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
November 12.
Surely it couldn’t be that simple…
1112 opens the phone right up.
He should really think about changing that because anyone could just pick up his phone and get right in. Is that what happened with the kinky sex video? Did someone easily get into his phone just as I did?
If he didn’t trouble me so much, I’d almost feel compelled to have a talk with him about the importance of a secure password.
Almost.
Not bothering to waste any more time, I set to transferring the phone data to my phone. I focus on text messages, photos, and videos for the time being. The program I use is quick but not quick enough to make a copy of the entire thing. I’ll do what I can and perhaps come another time to get the rest. Like when he’s sleeping.
While the phone copies, I dart my attention over to the bathroom door. He’s quiet in there. Doesn’t seem like a cleansing bath. Maybe more of a soaking bath.
Is he stressed?
The guilt is back, twisting and tightening my gut. I don’t like the heavy feeling—like I’m doing something wrong by trying to protect my family. But Tate’s a threat. I have to remember that.
I drag my attention back to his phone, noticing he has a shit ton of selfies with his cat. It’s almost cute. Kind of reminds me of Gemma and her selfies. Always smiling and putting on a show for the camera.
Meow.
Glancing at the cat, I cock my head at him as if to ask, “What?”
He continues to stare at me. I can feel his judgment. Why are cats such assholes?
Ignoring him, I flip through the missed calls and texts. All the calls are from the same number, but there’re no voicemails and the person didn’t text him. I’ll definitely do my deep dive later when I’m alone.
At the sound of the tub draining, I nearly drop both phones. Fuck. Quickly, I yank the cord out of his phone, turn it off, and shove it into the suitcase. I zip it up and stuff my own phone back into my pocket. I’m just starting back for the door when the bathroom door flings open.
He doesn’t see me at first and comes sauntering out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel tied around his waist. With all his clothes on, he’s thus far seemed kind of small to me. But now? Nearly naked? He’s not so tiny. His shoulders and biceps are carved with lean muscle. I skim my gaze down his hard pectorals and tight abs, landing at the bulge under his towel.
“Jude! What the hell are you doing in my room?”
I jerk my stare from his dick and meet his widened eyes. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” His neck burns bright red as he crosses his arms over his chest. “This is not okay.”
Shame runs thick through my veins. “I, uh, wanted to see Fucky.”
Lies.
Tate’s lips purse together as he darts a look over at the cat. “You can’t even say his name right and suddenly you’re BFFs?”
“Yep,” I rasp out, continuing my lie. “I love cats.” To further convince him, I sit on the edge of the bed and awkwardly pet the rumbling fur ball. “See?”
For fuck’s sake.
I’m a bumbling idiot.
Tate continues to gape at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “I don’t believe you.”
I snap my head up to look at him. With just a towel covering his virtually hairless body, he sort of reminds me of the sculptures we studied in school. A Michelangelo work of art. Smooth, made of marble, meant for staring at.
My brain short-circuits as I attempt to make sense of my thoughts. I can hear Tate mumbling things, but I’m still trying to figure out why I think this man’s body is so enticing to look at.
And he is enticing.
Distractingly so.
“Why are you really here?” Tate demands. “To order me around some more?”
I fixate on his mouth. Full, pouty lips. The bottom one is slightly bigger and protrudes a little more. His almost black hair is damp and not styled, hanging over his eyebrows messily. I like that he’s a bit less put together than usual.
“I, uh, thought I would give you a tour before dinner,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
He unfolds his arms and studies me for a beat. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place instead of lying?”
I avoid his probing stare and end up noticing how his pink nipples are pebbled. A ripple of something flitters through my body, settling in the pit of my stomach. His nipples are almost as intriguing as his lips.
“I don’t know,” I rumble. The first truth in this whole conversation. “I know you were upset earlier. I thought I would soften you by pretending to like your cat.”
He snorts out a laugh. “Soften me up to my new ice-cold floors and forced captivity?”