Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
I can’t tell her I’ll take anything less than what she owes me, but it’s getting harder and harder to keep the pressure on.
After the way she keeps offering that hot little body up to me, I almost feel like I’m in the deficit to her. I find myself wanting to figure out how I can give something back. Something besides pizza and an orgasm.
But I’m not going to let a woman turn me soft. She stole from my family, she’ll have to pay the price.
She looks away when I don’t answer, then stands up. “I need exercise,” she declares, like she’s on some kind of holiday and gets to follow her own itinerary.
I don’t know why I find it so damn appealing.
“You can work out in my gym,” I tell her. “Want to lift some weights?”
She gives me a wary look. “Um, okay. Sure.”
I stand and lead her to my home gym in the back of the house. The winter sun streams in through the windows. I go to shut the shades, but she exclaims, “Oh leave them open. I love the sun.”
“Of course you do,” I mutter. Because she’s as bright as that ball of fire. The kind of sun that is way too much to look at, the kind that scorches.
I’m already certain she’s burning her imprint into me.
Not sure I want to let her go.
Caitlin
Lifting weights is not my idea of a workout. I need cardio—I like to move to rhythm, get my heart rate up to music.
But beggars can’t be choosers.
The trouble is, I don’t really know what to do with any of this equipment. I bend over and try to pick up a dumbbell.
“Hang on, doll—”
I nearly break my back lifting it. It comes off the floor a half inch and crashes back down.
“Right. Too heavy.” I swivel to eye Paolo’s broad shoulders with new appreciation. No wonder he’s so strong. He’s in here lifting weights as heavy as a Mack truck.
His lips curl. It’s not quite a smile, but close. He saunters over and takes the weights off the ends of the bar, leaving only the two end pieces on. “Try it this way,” he says.
“That’s just a bar.” Oh. And it’s still plenty heavy. I change my grip and do ten two-handed curls with it, then groan as I drop it back down. “I don’t think this is going to work, Paolo.”
His lips twitch again. “Mr. Tacone to you.”
I lean into one hip and curl my hair around my finger. “I know.”
The element of danger is always there with this guy, which is perhaps why I enjoy ribbing him—flirting for me—so much. I get a thrill straight to the soles of my feet every time I dare. And of course I dare every time.
His gaze on me is anything but dangerous now, though. Sure, there are traces of hunger in it, but there’s actually warmth in his eyes. Indulgence.
He likes me.
For the first time in years, maybe ever, I’m starting to feel less broken. More special. It’s a strange experience for someone who’s been considered cray-cray for so long. All this time I sort of thought I was trying to hide my crazy from the world.
He made me realize it might be the other way around. I’ve been trying to hide my sanity. Because being sane in this world is too perfectly painful.
I would have to own up to all the shit that happened to me after my dad’s death, and I don’t want to do that.
He lifts his chin toward the treadmill. “You could run on that.”
“Oh,” I say brightly. “Right.” I’ve actually never used a treadmill, but it must be easy enough. I step on and flip switches.
Paolo comes up and stands on it behind me. “Hang on, speedy.” His warmth is at my back, arms reach around me to adjust settings. I push my ass back into him, and with nothing but yoga pants on, his heat bleeds right through. I like the way it feels to have him near me.
Safe.
Of course, the opposite is true.
Which makes it all the more exciting.
And now I’m back to believing I’m genuinely nutso.
Paolo steps off the treadmill and starts it. “How’s that speed?”
I start walking briskly. “Perfect.” I’m already smiling.
He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Are you just going to stand there and watch me?”
“Yeah. I think I am.”
My smile grows bigger. “Because you think I’m cute?”
Ha—I did it! A genuine smile splits his face. “Yeah, doll. Exactly.”
I keep smiling.
“So, how did you become a hacker? I’m guessing they don’t exactly teach that in school?”
“No, I’m self-taught. My dad picked the occupation for me, actually. He decided it would benefit him greatly if he had a kid who could get through alarm systems or rob online banks. He stole a laptop for me when I was eleven and brought me to this guy’s sketchy apartment to learn how to access the dark web.”