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)
And, fuck, the second I felt them press against mine, any ideas of being a good guy flew out of my goddamn mind.
My hands lifted, framing her face, bending her head back slightly as my lips deepened the kiss, dragging a low moan out of her that I swear I felt right in my cock.
I took a half of a step forward, pressing her against the counter as my tongue teased the seam of her lips before sliding inside, claiming hers.
I was fucking consumed by her right then.
There was no way I could have pulled myself back.
If it weren’t for Storm going fucking ballistic over by the windows, shocking us both enough to jolt apart.
“Storm!” Millie scolded, breathless.
The contact broken, I was aware just how fucking stupid that had been. My body hadn’t exactly gotten the memo, though. I was hard as fuck.
But that was why I turned to walk over to the window, peering out at the edge of the park that my apartment overlooked.
“His girlfriend is at the park,” I said.
“His girlfriend?” she asked.
I wanted to look back, to see if she was as affected as I was. But I didn’t trust myself just yet.
Besides, my cock hadn’t got the memo to calm the fuck down yet.
“There’s this morbidly obese English Bulldog that sounds like she’s got a ten-pack-a-day habit just from standing up. He’s in love with her.”
“Well, we can’t judge him for what he’s into,” she said.
“I’ll take him to go see her,” I said, happy for an excuse to get out, to get some space to put some walls back up.
I mean, for fuck’s sake, I couldn’t get involved with her. If for no other reason—though there were many—than practicality. Since, you know, she couldn’t have sex with her ribs all fucked up like that.
“Hey, if you don’t mind… could I give you a little list of just like three things I need?” she asked.
“Don’t need to make it sound like such a fucking chore, Mills,” I said, grabbing Storm’s leash. “It’s not.”
“Ah, right, well, it’s just that… it’s girl stuff.”
“What? Like tampons? Pads? Midol? That kind of girl stuff?” I asked, mentally kicking myself for not having thought of that.
“No. I mean… not yet,” she said, brows pinching, like she was trying to do some calculations. “It’s… makeup,” she said, waving at her face.
Honestly, she was looking a lot better. I barely even saw the bruises anymore, since I was used to seeing them. But I could see feeling weird about them.
“Alright. Where’s the list?” I asked as I attached the dog bone shaped plastic holder that had Storm’s little bags in it.
“Ah, here,” she said, hobbling over to the coffee table to find it amongst the pile of books, snacks, creams, and various other shit she had set there. “The most important one is the top one. It’s a foundation that can cover tattoos.”
“You got tattoos you’re hiding?” I asked, mind immediately realizing the only bits of her I hadn’t seen yet were of the naughty sort.
“It’s for my bruises,” she said, shaking her head at me. “I love your apartment. Really, I do. But I am losing my ever-loving mind not being able to get some fresh air,” she admitted.
Right.
Yeah.
That made sense.
No, she couldn’t go for a jog or shit like that, but she could probably take the short walk to the park with Storm. Even if she planted her pretty ass on a bench the whole time.
“You didn’t put down a shade here,” I said. I didn’t know much about makeup, but I knew you had to match it to your skin tone. “So, just go for whatever Casper-ass shade they got going?”
“I’m not that pale,” she insisted.
“Kinda be a shame to cover up the freckles,” I said before I could think better of the words. But I couldn’t take them back. Or unsee the way her eyes went soft at hearing them.
Fuck.
I needed to get away from her.
Get my head on right.
Stop thinking with my dick.
“Alright. Better go before Samantha leaves,” I said, rushing Storm out of the door. “Don’t look at me like that,” I demanded as Storm stared up at me as we went down in the elevator. “Don’t get your hopes up,” I added. “It’s not like that with us,” I informed him.
Storm seemed unconvinced.
And why wouldn’t he be?
I was lying to him.
“Ay, yo, what’s this?” a familiar voice called, making me turn to find Brio walking toward me in his black shirt and jeans, the only other member of the Family aside from me who wasn’t committed to wearing suits. “When’d you get a dog?” he asked.
“When did you get ten?” I shot back, looking at the various dogs at the ends of leashes that were, miraculously, not tangled.
“Walking ‘em for the shelter,” he said. “Helps ‘em not go stir crazy. And gets ‘em some exposure to people who might adopt,” he said, and I noticed several of them wearing Adopt Me! bandanas. “That one yours?” he asked, giving me a suspicious look.