Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
He looks at his room as though seeing it with new eyes. “Naw. Felicia does most of it. Bitch treats cleaning like it’s crack. She’s got issues. Likes everything to match. Fucked up if you ask me.”
“Your stepmom, right?”
“Mom,” he corrects. “She’s been a mom since we met.”
My heart cracks and the center oozes through the broken pieces. “That’s actually really sweet.”
He shrugs, nonplussed and hands me the towel and T-shirt. “Leave the shower runnin’ so I can sneak in when you’re done.”
“You’re not going to ask to join me?”
When he gives me a heated look instead of laughing at my joke, I flee the room, padding quietly to the bathroom.
I make it super quick because I’m so tired. Washing my hair with Felicia’s shampoos, washing my body with shower gel that smells like peaches. I love peaches. I also brush my teeth with an unopened spare toothbrush and pray they don’t notice until long after I’ve gone. I hide it in the cabinet above the basin ready for me to use again before I sneak out in the morning.
I dress in the T-shirt, wishing I’d asked for some boxer shorts too. It smells so clean and fresh. I love fresh laundry.
With a sigh of complex contentment, I leave the shower running and give my hair a quick brush. Then I exit the bathroom and quietly slip back into Kane’s room.
He passes me, bare chest brushing against my arm, and I notice that he’s pulled back the bed covers. I search through his drawers, mostly to take up time but also because I need something to wear so I’m not so exposed.
I grab a clean pair of his folded boxer shorts and pull them on, then I slip under the cover, twisting my wet hair above my head, and get as close to the wall as possible.
It’s so warm and snug. His mattress is a dream. I don’t think it has any of those awful springs in it like mine. It’s like laying on foam. Perhaps that’s what it is.
Closing my eyes, I listen to the shower running and wonder if he’s thinking of me right now.
Is he thinking of my almost naked body like I’m thinking of his?
Pushing that thought away I burrow deeper under the covers.
I tense when I hear him speaking to somebody in the hall and consider hiding under the bed but by the time I think of it, the conversation stops and the door opens. He locks it behind him, and I hear a drawer open then close. The towel hits the floor and I swallow and try hard not to think about it.
After another moment, he scratches somewhere on his body and switches out the light. Then the bed dips beside me and I find I can’t breathe.
I expect him to make some lude comment and ask me to show him my panties, but he just groans and rolls onto his front away from me.
My entire body feels tighter than when I woke up on the riverbank and choked up a lung. My lungs still feel sore, as does my throat and body. I can’t believe I did that.
“You better not snore,” I say on a whisper and the bed shakes with his silent laughter.
“I really fucking hope you do.”
I huff and tuck the duvet between my legs. I’m finding it so hard to relax next to him. This is the first time I’ve slept with a boy. It’s crazy. I’m not sure I like it. I don’t even like him which makes this all the more uncomfortable.
I toss and turn, fidgeting as I try to find a better position.
I can tell he’s getting frustrated with me but I can’t stop moving.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” I say when he growls for the millionth time.
“Shut up,” he hisses and shoves me onto my front. I turn my head so my cheek is pressing against my pillow and make a quiet squealing noise when his body treats mine like a mattress.
He presses his chest against my back and his leg over my thigh. His weight crushes me into the clean scented bed linen and his arm rests over mine, so his hand is resting on my wrist.
“Go to sleep,” he demands, angry and definitely annoyed.
I puff out my cheeks, trying not to move though to be honest, I don’t want to move. I’ve never been comfier.
“If you tell anybody about this, I’ll come to San Antonio, find you, shave all your hair off and glue it to your back,” he warns and my body shakes with laughter I sorely need. He covers my mouth with his hand, yanking my head back with it. My eyes cross because it feels good. I don’t know why I like it. It should hurt but instead it makes me want to wriggle against him to see if he feels the same. “Quiet.”