Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Girl shit?” I asked, lips twitching.
“Conditioner, body wash, girl shit,” he said, shrugging. “And got some clothes, socks, and underwear. You don’t really need a bra,” he added.
Again, it was in that offhand way that had me amused more than I should have been.
“Gee thanks,” I said.
His gaze slid in my direction, brow raised. “Sure your tits are nice, Mills. But you’re not gonna put out an eye if you don’t strap ‘em down.”
If asked, I would probably have told someone that I liked nice guys. Guys who were kind and gentle.
But there was no denying that some part of me was drawn to this blunt, borderline abrasive man. Sure, maybe you could say it was simply because he was stupidly good-looking. I didn’t think it was just that, though. I found his inability to sugarcoat things, even sensitive things, charming.
This was the kind of guy you didn’t ask if your ass looked fat in your jeans, because he’d tell you the truth you didn’t want to hear.
It also meant that he was more honest, though. And that was refreshing. Especially if you were entrusting your very life to him when you really didn’t know him from Adam.
“That’s a fair point,” I admitted, nodding.
I mean, I wasn’t insecure about how my genetics had shaped me. There was a period in my teens, like most girls, where I railed against my pear shape, but I’d learned to accept and embrace myself over the years since.
Besides, he was right. I really rarely wore a bra because it would be more like fashion than having a practical use.
“And… food,” he said, pulling the brown bag up. “Didn’t know what kind of sauce you like, so I got one spaghetti with marinara and the other with alfredo.”
“Whichever one you don’t want, I’ll be happy with.”
“No, I got both for you,” he said, sounding annoyed at the idea that he didn’t bring me options.
“Whichever one you want to hand me then,” I said. “Oh, unless you want me to eat at the counter,” I added, pressing my hand into the cushion to try to stand.
“Sit your ass down,” he said, rolling his eyes at me as he came around the sectional, and placed the to-go container of pasta with red sauce down on the coffee table.
“You keep your place really neat,” I said. “I don’t want to drop anything.”
“That’s why God invented fucking cleaning products. Stop being difficult,” he demanded.
This time, I couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped me. It hurt like hell, but I couldn’t seem to fight it.
His head snapped up, gaze pinning mine, and I watched something cross his eyes. Confusion, but followed by something else, something that had a warm sensation moving through my chest.
It was gone before I could even try to decipher it, though.
“What do you want to drink?” he asked.
“What are the options?” I asked.
“Water, soda, iced tea, milk, juice, beer, wine, or the hard shit.”
“You have all those drink options?” I asked, brows raised.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Like options,” he said, shrugging.
“Iced tea sounds good,” I decided. Did I want a stiff drink? Yeah. But I wasn’t sure how much of the pain pill was still in my system. Better not to risk it.
He said nothing else as he handed me an iced tea, then sat down at the other end of the couch, leaving room for Storm to hop up between us.
We ate in silence, both looking at the TV, but I got the feeling we were both lost in our own thoughts rather than actually paying attention.
I managed to get half of the pasta down before my throat was hurting too much to go on.
Silvano said nothing, just packed it and the other pasta away in the fridge before taking Storm for another walk.
I’d been worried that he would pee in the apartment, but he seemed to grasp the concept of going outside to do his business relatively quickly. Thank goodness.
When Silvano came back, Storm cuddled up with me, exhausted. I was tired too, making the couch up, and trying to find a comfortable position while Silvano made his way upstairs, then back down, making his way into the bathroom.
I heard the water splashing onto the tile floor.
I didn’t expect it, but my mind suddenly flashed with a vision of him in there, peeling off his clothes.
I had no idea what he might look like under his clothes. He was definitely on the thinner side, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have those etches of muscles on his chest and abdomen. That V that led right down to…
Nope.
No.
I was not going to be getting all pervy toward the guy who was actually being good to me.
Even making that decision, though, it proved hard to keep my thoughts on other topics, since the only other things I had to think about were debilitatingly sad, or overwhelmingly steeped in fear and uncertainty.