Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
She did get a text from a friend while we were waiting and told me she let her know where she was. I’m not sure how much of that was to make sure I knew she wasn’t alone. She said the friend works nights, but after hearing where Esme was, she said she’ll be checking in to see how Esme is doing in a few hours when she gets off work.
She kept saying how she wasn’t really hurt anyway and didn’t want to be more of a bother than she already was.
Wow. She has no idea how much she is not bothering me.
When I asked her again what she had been doing running out into the street at that time of night, she gave me some whitewashed story about meeting someone a few blocks away for a drink and that it didn’t go well, then her Uber didn’t show.
I immediately wanted to grill her about who it was and exactly where they were. I was ready to find the fucker and pound his ass into the ground. But just as I started to ask her more questions, a nurse came in, and I decided to drop it. At least for the moment.
A few hours later, they finally gave her the all-clear, but with any bump on the head it’s best to be cautious. And while I barely know her, I already know I’d lay waste to armies to protect this girl.
I shut off the Suburban and watch her sleep for a moment. I’ll admit my fantasies about her are more than indecent. Bordering on depraved, and it shocks me.
Not just because I probably have twenty years on her, or that she’s a beauty the likes of which I've never seen, but because I don’t remember ever having this particular range of emotions before.
It’s been many years since my interest was last piqued by a female. More than I can count. I’m no monk, but with the empty feeling I had about most of the women who were drawn to me in the past, I guess I just decided I’d go without.
My sister, Maria, keeps telling me I need to feel that spark. That’s how I’ll know.
Well, Esme is setting off a shit ton of sparks.
I watch her sleep for another few minutes, and as much as I know I could watch her for hours, I decide she needs to get inside and into bed. I reach over and brush her blonde hair off her shoulder then run my fingers down the flesh of her arm, and my already half-hard cock thickens at the contact.
“Hey.” I move my hand back upward and trace my thumb on her neck, and she sniffles then looks over at me with glazed eyes.
“God. Sorry.” She pushes her hair back behind her ears, brushing mine as she looks at me with those seductive, turquoise eyes, and I’m lost again in the feeling that I’m falling. “I fell asleep.”
“It’s okay. You’ve had a big day.” My cock twitches as I look into her sleepy face, wanting to see her like that in the morning. In my bed. After fucking her into unconsciousness.
“Thank God tomorrow is Sunday and I can sleep in.” Her lips curve into a soft smile. “I mean today, I guess.”
“Let’s get you inside.”
“Really, I’m fine, you’ve done more than enough...”
“Sorry, I’m not leaving you. Doctor said someone should be with you for twenty-four hours.”
“I know, my friend is coming when she gets off work at six. I can handle it for a few hours.”
“Nope.” I step out and move around to her side of the car, opening her door and wrapping her in my arms. “You’re my responsibility at the moment.”
What I want to say, what I’m feeling...is she is my responsibility. Period.
From now on.
And I don’t care how crazy that sounds.
“You’re stubborn.” She smiles, and it lights up my heart.
“I can be.”
We walk up the two flights of stairs to her door. It’s an old Victorian house converted into apartments. Not a total dump, but not where she deserves to live, either. And in the back of my mind, I make a note to change her living situation—soon.
Inside, she flips on a light, and I look around. Her place is neat but small. The living room is open to an efficiency kitchen where I see a single plate and glass resting on a floral dishtowel next to the sink.
There’s a bowl of oranges on a two-person café-style table with an older laptop and a stack of textbooks on one of the chairs. The soft floral scent in the room is almost like her own but not nearly as sweet.
For a simple apartment, the décor is warm and original. Pops of orange and yellow draw my eye around the room, and the furniture—although simple and looking like it has a decade or more under its belt—has been paired with colorful quilts and modern pillows that give the entire space a creative sophistication I could see spread in a magazine.