Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Which brings me here, to Milo Granville’s front door.
His son Jet is brilliant. He’s been building robots in his spare time since middle school. When he offered to help me study so I could bring my B in chemistry up to an A, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.
Now, standing on the front porch trying not to wither beneath the scorching gaze of Milo Granville, I’m not sure I made the right choice.
Is it worth inviting this temptation into my life?
College is a long shot, anyway. Even with scholarships, how will I make enough money to support myself? My mom can hardly support herself, she’ll never help me. I could ask my dad, but we haven’t talked in years. I can’t imagine reaching out to him for the first time just to ask for money for school.
I want to give myself the best shot at success once I get out of this crappy town, though. I have to bet on myself, even if the odds are stacked against me.
Meeting Milo’s gaze, I give a pretty convincing performance of someone unaffected by him, someone who hasn’t cried out in rapture as his skillful tongue branded her pussy with a scorching, sensual heat.
“Can I come in?” I ask levelly.
Smirk still in place, Milo takes a step back and gestures for me to come inside.
I’m hit by a wall of invisible, cozy warmth as I step over the threshold into his house. As he closes the door behind me, I try to tamp down a wave of panic. Reasonably, I know I can leave anytime I want to, but when the door closes and he engages the lock, it feels ominous.
I spin around and look at him, my brow furrowed.
In our neighborhood, we generally keep the door locked so junkies can’t break in and steal our things. I mean, they still could, but they’re not exactly go-getters. Mostly, if they come across a locked door, they just move on to an easier target unless they’re truly desperate.
But Milo and his sons live in a nice part of town. The kind of neighborhood where every house has an expensive car parked in the driveway, where lawns are well-manicured by professional lawn services because the people who live here can’t be bothered to mow their own grass.
We’re standing in a foyer, after all. A foyer. Intricate wrought-iron bars line the stairs on either side of us. There’s a chandelier hanging over my head, for Christ’s sake.
This might be a nice neighborhood to steal from, but it’s one where you’d definitely get caught. Every house has an alarm and one of those doorbells that has a camera lens, most even have security systems with multiple cameras. It’s the type of place that probably has a neighborhood watch.
I don’t think Milo is afraid of anyone breaking in and stealing what’s his, but he still locks the door.
He doesn’t explain, either.
Before I can say anything else, Jet walks out of the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal. He brightens a little when he sees me.
“Hey, Kennedy.”
“Hi,” I answer, a sudden wave of shyness coming over me.
I know he doesn’t know what happened between me and his dad, but I feel his fingerprint bruises all over my body again. Surely the evidence of that hot summer night must be plain to see from the blush on my face, the tension in the air.
Jet doesn’t seem to notice any of it. “You ready to get started?”
I nod, dropping my book bag from my back and hoisting it on one shoulder. “Yep.”
“Great.” Jet smiles. “Let me put this in the sink and we can head up to my room.”
“Your room?” The words slip out before I can stop them. My blush deepens. I don’t know why, but I figured we would study in the kitchen or something, somewhere less… private.
He doesn’t seem to notice my reluctance. He comes back out of the kitchen a few seconds later and flashes me a smile before wordlessly heading up the stairs, clearly expecting me to follow.
All right, then.
I guess we’re going to his room.
My steps are a bit slower than his, so he gets to the top of the stairs before me.
“Have fun,” Milo calls up after me, his voice like a taunt.
I glance back at him.
Our gazes lock just like they did that night in the hall.
The amusement glittering in his brilliant blue eyes fades, and the glint hardens before he adds lower, maybe just for me to hear, “Not too much fun, though.”
My heart sinks.
I nearly miss a step.
I grab onto the railing to catch myself, my face flushing after the near-fall.
“Careful,” Jet says, oblivious to his father’s hold on me.
I shake it off and hurry up the rest of the stairs.
I tell myself I won’t look back, but as we go around the rotunda at the top of the staircase, I glance down just to see if Milo’s watching me.