Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
CHAPTER THIRTY
Margot
Jigsaw: Back in NY. Can be at your place in an hour.
Me: I’ll buzz you in.
Frantic and so eager to see him, I hurry into the shower. I carefully shave my legs and smooth oil all over my skin.
After I’m finished, I take my time carefully drying my curls so they’re smooth and bouncy.
Then, I pull out the sheer, steel-blue camisole I bought, hoping to wear it for Jigsaw once he got back. It came with matching shiny satin shorts, and I slip those on too. Just in case I have to run downstairs, I pull on a white-and-blue striped, long-sleeved button-up shirt.
My phone buzzes again.
Jigsaw: Here.
Butterflies flip and flutter in my stomach as I race to the intercom. I don’t think I’ve ever missed someone this fiercely or been bubbling over with so much excitement to see them again.
Impatient, I jab the button that will unlock the downstairs back door, then open mine. Jigsaw’s heavy boots thump against the stairs.
As he reaches the top, he slows his steps.
His arms are tanner than when he left but not his face. Our eyes lock and a slow smile spreads over his face.
“Aw, fuck.” He stops and braces one arm against the doorframe. “Look at you.” His words are low and hungry. He runs his free hand over his chin like he’s contemplating his next meal. “How are you even prettier than when I left?”
“Is it this?” I tease the hem of my shorts higher.
His greedy eyes roam over every inch of me. “It doesn’t hurt.”
I curl my fingers at him. “Come in.”
“Babe, I’ve been riding hard for almost two days.”
“I don’t care.” I tilt my head. “You didn’t stop home at all?”
“Nope.” He hesitates, crosses the threshold and closes the door behind him. “Came straight here from Deadbranch.” He cocks his head. “Some guys were as eager to get home so we rode together most of the way.”
“I’m glad you weren’t riding alone.”
He holds out his hand. “Come shower with me.”
“I just got out of the shower.”
His lips tip into the cocky smile I missed. “Come with me anyway.”
I can’t take my eyes off of him as he unlaces his boots and leaves them by the door. While he shrugs off his cut and hangs it in the closet, I start unbuttoning my shirt.
“Whoa, what’re you doing there, little lady?” He prowls closer and takes over the unbuttoning. He slides the shirt off my shoulders, revealing the sheer camisole.
He lets out a low whistle of appreciation. “Wow. I can see right through that.”
“That was kind of the point.”
“You get this for me?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I like. A lot.”
I’ve reduced him to one-syllable words.
Empowered like never before, I take his hand. “Come on. Take your shower. Give me your clothes, and I’ll throw them in the wash.”
“But then I’ll be naked.”
I glance over my shoulder. “Yes, I know.”
“I like coming home to this,” he says so low, I almost miss it.
Could he ever consider this his home? Here with me?
I stop at the laundry room, open the door, and grab some towels. Jigsaw moves on ahead of me, into the bathroom. When I join him, he already has the shower running. He faces me and peels off his dark blue T-shirt.
I hold out my hands for it.
He hesitates and lets out a sigh. “You don’t have to do my laundry, Margot.”
“Well, you said you were riding hard the last two days.” I make a big show of pretending to search the bathroom. “I don’t see any other clothes with you, so…”
He tosses me the shirt. “My saddlebag’s on my bike. Got my stuff in there.”
“You want me to go down and get it?”
He sweeps his gaze over me again. “Not dressed like that, I don’t.”
“Well, yeah.” I roll my eyes.
“Nah, nothing in there’s clean, either.” He works his belt loose.
“You can bring it up later.”
He nods and empties his pockets—phone, wallet, keys, some change and a crumpled dollar bill—then cocks an eyebrow and lifts his gaze to me. “You plannin’ to watch me undress?”
There’s a cocky challenge to his question that sends a shiver over my skin. “Oh, yes.”
His shoulders shake as he pushes his jeans down, then his briefs.
“Wow,” I breathe out.
Chuckling, he balls up his clothes and holds them in front of him.
“Give them to me.” I hold out my hands. “I handle bodily fluids all day. Your sweaty jeans don’t scare me.”
He fake-retches to the side but hands me his clothes.
“Thank you.” I turn to leave. “Have you eaten?”
“No but we can do that later.” The shower door softly rattles as he slides it open.
I hurry into the laundry and toss his stuff into the washer. Running it while he’s in the shower will probably cut his water pressure in half, but I’m hoping he doesn’t plan to be in there long. Once his clothes are churning, I run to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water.