Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
She sleeps the entire drive back to her apartment. It’s not until I pull over that her eyes open in surprise, and her hand leaves mine.
Turning off the car, I get out and make my way around the car to her door. Opening it, she attempts to unclip her seat belt but fails and throws her hands in the air. “Now you’re trying to trap me in this car too.”
Leaning over her, I unbuckle the seat belt, and as I do, I can feel her death glare on the side of my head. Having a woman stare at me with such hatred is not something I can say I’m used to. And it actually makes me want to laugh.
“You’re free,” I say, sweeping my hand toward her apartment building. She huffs before she gets out and walks straight past me to the entrance. I shut the car door and follow her as she stumbles her way inside. I carry the half-finished burger and fries I stopped to buy her. I try not to laugh as she struggles to unlock her door. Growling, she throws the key at the door and rests her head against the wall. “Need a hand?” I offer, my amusement clear in my voice. She scowls at me.
Here she is, a woman with precise aim—probably better than any of my men—and she’s angry she can’t get a key in a lock.
It’s comical, really.
She flips me off but doesn’t reject my offer. She stands to the side and takes the bag of food from me as I bend down to pick up her keys and unlock the door. When I open it, she’s elbow-deep in the bag again, pulling out fries.
She steps past me and tries her hardest to walk in a straight line to her room.
Her roommate doesn’t seem to be home. I close the apartment door and go to the kitchen to grab her a glass of water. When I reach her room, I can hear her swearing under her breath. Somehow, she’s gotten tangled in her dress. I can’t take my eyes off drunk Jewel for a second. I chuckle as I put the water on the bedside table and then drop to my knees as she sits on the bed, now trying to undo her boots.
“Let me help,” I say. I move her hand from her boot, unzipping and removing them both. She slides up the bed, dragging the fries with her and eating some more. “Drink the water,” I tell her.
“Fuck you,” she says but does as she’s told. I chuckle.
“I’m not opposed to it.” I look up and wink at her. She finishes the glass of water and then splays out on the bed. It’s not long before a soft snore leaves her.
Clearly, she cannot handle her alcohol.
Standing up, I pick her up and put her comfortably on the bed so she doesn’t complain about a sore back or neck the next day. My cock swells as my gaze roams down her figure. She’s only wearing her bra and underwear. I feel bad for the mess I left behind on her, so I go to her bathroom and wet a towel.
I clean up the mixture of blood and cum from her skin.
I don’t feel bad lying to my parents, but I am starting to notice how perfectly this little she-devil might fit into my life. That thought becomes uncomfortable because just as I feel like I’m getting my fill of this woman, I’m yearning for more. I can’t get her out of my head or my bloodstream, which might be turning into a weakness.
She turns over in her sleep, reaching for her pillow and hugging it tight.
She is beautiful. Stunning, really.
And then she starts to snore again.
CHAPTER 39
Jewel
My head is sore. Correction—it’s fucking pounding. Drinking yesterday was a bad idea. I’ve never been a heavy drinker. I’ve had a few drinks here and there, but my father wasn’t a drinker, and Craig hardly ever drank around me, so I never had any interest in it. Besides, I never liked the idea of being out of control. But yesterday, I clung to it like a crutch as I freaked the fuck out over seeing myself wearing a wedding dress.
A real fucking wedding dress.
Me.
In a wedding dress.
Heat floods my core as I think about the many sinful things I did in said wedding dress.
I groan as my phone starts ringing. I reach for it a few times, but then I give up. I brush my fingers through my hair with one eye open, and my hand snags on something.
Is my hair in a fucking braid?
My phone rings again, and I grumble as I sit up, the room spinning. I find a glass of water next, plus a couple of headache tablets on my bedside table. How did they get there?