Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Inside my room, I shut the door, and hurry to the chair that sits in the corner. I shimmy it out of the corner and then press my back against it, pushing it across the room until I can wedge it up against the door.
I need my space. I need the devil and his irresistible lips out of my room. Crossing my arms, I stare at my work, backing up until my butt falls onto the soft new mattress.
I might be able to hide from Kieran DeAngelo, but I can’t run.
He’s made that clear.
What feels like hours later, I wake up. I must have fallen asleep while staring out the window.
Commotion in the room across the hall has my curiosity peek, and I slide off the bed. Looking over the chair against the door, I sigh, remembering how upset I was and the need to run and just scream. I’m calmer now and can face the demon once again. At least I think I can.
Shoving the chair away from the door, I open It and instantly spot Kieran in the room across the hall. He’s shirtless and picking up a window to put in place of the broken one that was once there. He’s sweaty, his hair in his face as he positions it, and his arms are sculpted of muscle.
Maybe I’m not ready to face him. Jesus Christ, he’s lucid wet dreams.
As if he can sense me staring at him he looks over his shoulder, strands of ink hair in his eyes, his mouth parted.
“Okay, it’s in!” Eddie yells from the other side of the window.
“Screw it in,” Kieran demands and heads my way. I swallow and begin to fidget with my hands. Grabbing a shirt off the floor, he wipes his face and leans against the door frame.
“Sorry.”
My head snaps up. Holy shit, the infamous Kieran DeAngelo just apologized. That has got to be a first.
“I, it’s okay. I just… my dad is a sensitive subject,” I explain. He nods as if he understands, but I don’t think he does. His dad is probably the master of diabolical father’s and my dad wasn’t that. My memories are nothing but blissful and good. I miss him.
“Eddie made up some fettuccine if you want some.” He gestures toward the kitchen down the hall and I smell a hint of garlic for the first time now that he’s mentions it. My hands clasped in front of me, I look in the direction he’s pointing to.
“He cooked us dinner?” I half laugh. Awkwardness filling the space around us.
“He does whatever I tell him to,” he replies.
My eyes snap to his, that stronghold tone he has making me weak in the knees. I can’t decide if I hate him or want him. Or both. I crave to climb him like a tree, pull his hair, and bite his fucking lip with all the angst I have built up inside of me.
He stares back at me as if he’s silently thinking the same thing. He wants to throw me up against the wall, turn me around and yank my head back by my hair and tell me how much of a pain in the ass I am.
“Kieran! I need help!” Eddie hollers before knocking on the glass.
He gives me a sly smirk before going back into the messy room and helping put the window in. I exhale a breath and notice my body flushed and turned on. Damn it, Eddie. If he weren’t here, things could have gotten really interesting.
Going into the kitchen all I can think about is how he apologized, is replacing a window, and bought a new bed. He’s impossible to hate. Looking down, I somehow have a plate with food on it. My mind astray and thinking about Kieran, my body when into auto pilot and made myself a plate. I shrug it off, and take the food outside, my bare feet in the fresh-cut grass. I’m a virgin, haven’t had much action do to the whole being labeled an organized crime ring leader. Men are afraid of me, women hate me. Would I have sex with Kieran? I scoff at myself, like I could restrain myself. He’s good at making my body come alive and any thought of morals or taking it slow are disintegrated into a pool of hot breaths and forbidden touches.
Taking a bite of my food, I look at the fresh-cut grass Eddie plowed today. It’s so green and beautiful. There’s a ton of space out here just begging someone to do something with it.
I could put a garden out here. Taking another bite, I look the space over, curious what kinds of vegetables I’d plant, and if I would put a fence up. I could have stepping stones hidden in the grass leading up to a section of flowers, their bursts of colors mixed with the crisp pungent smells of fruit and vegetables.