Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 87756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
"Hey!" I yelped as he jingled them and moved from me, jogging up my stairs and stopping in front of my door before I even fully realized what just happened. He stole my keys! He stole my keys and was using them to get into my house. "That's it, I'm calling the cops," I said, reaching for my phone as I looked up at him.
"Jesus, you finance that Porsche working as a fucking janitor, baby?" he asked, smiling over at me as he sifted through my keys, apparently completely unconcerned about me calling the police. "Ah, here it is," he said and, sure enough, slipped the right key into the lock.
What, was he some kind of burglar when he was younger? How did he know what key would work?
"Better get up here and punch in this code, Elsie, or the cops will be here in under five minutes."
"That was the plan," I said, waving my phone around where I had dialed in the nine and one, but hadn't added the last one or hit send.
"We both know you're not calling the cops so get your pretty ass up here and punch the code."
I looked down at my feet for a second, stuck inside clogs that made my lip curl anytime I looked at them, but were the only shoes I could wear that didn't have backs to rub on my cut heels.
He was right; I wasn't going to call the cops.
Why? I had no idea. But I wasn't.
I hauled it up the staircase and gave him a pointed brow lift until he turned away as I punched in the code and the warning beeping finally stopped. When I looked back at Paine, he was casually looking around my house. I couldn't tell from his impassive expression if he was impressed or disgusted or simply unaffected.
"How're your feet?" he asked, nodding down at my clogs that I was in the process of kicking out of.
"Fine," I said, lifting my chin slightly. "Now, say what you want to say and get gone. I need to get dinner and make a few calls."
"You cook?" he asked, craning his head into the doorway to the dining room.
"No," I said and, for the first time, felt a little embarrassed by that fact. In my normal friend group, everyone grew up privileged like me and Rome, with maids and cooks on the payroll, so it wasn't weird that none of us knew a whisk from a monkey wrench.
"So let's order in," he said, moving into my dining room, making his way toward my kitchen, leaving me to follow behind like a little lost puppy, not the actual owner of the house.
"Um, excuse me but I didn't invite you in, let alone invite you for dinner."
"I know. Who taught you your manners? They should be ashamed of themselves."
A strange snorting sound burst out of me, making my hand slap down over my mouth in embarrassment. I didn't... snort. That wasn't like me at all. Paine hauled himself up onto my island, giving me a warm smile as I struggled to get my composure back. "You do understand why I don't want a strange man in my house when I live alone, right?"
"I do," he nodded.
"And yet you're barging in here and inviting yourself to dinner."
"Baby, we aren't strangers."
"Ah, yeah we are."
"Really? We are? How weird that I know your name, your best friend/ not-boyfriend's name, that you like your coffee sweet but without actual sugar because, I'm assuming, you like to keep that tight body tight. I know you have good, but understated taste. And I know that you're into something. As in, way in. As in, over your head. In turn, you know where I live, what I do, that I have two sisters and that I have better manners than you. I'd say strangers don't know that much about each other."
On a sigh, I dropped my purse down on the counter. "You're impossible."
"And you're headstrong as fuck."
"I'm not headstrong, I'm cautious."
"Cautious about me, who saved you. And headstrong about not sharing why you're involved with a street gang."
"Because it's none of your business! You're not my boyfriend. You're not my father. You're not even my friend. So why the hell do you care what I am involved in?"
"Because," he said, his voice still as calm and soothing and, yes, sexy (damn it) as ever while mine kept getting increasingly frustrated, "babygirl, I don't think you have the slightest clue how dangerous those guys are."
"Really? It wasn't me that they were chasing last night? Weird. It totally felt like me. And it felt pretty scary and dangerous. Huh. Guess that was all my imagination."
"Cute," he said, hopping off the island and moving toward where I was leaned against the counter, planting his hands on either side of my body, his thumbs pressing into my hips, forcing me to crane my neck up to keep eye contact as my body urged me to wiggle my hips against his. Christ, I needed to have a serious session with my vibrator when he left. "Baby, they kill people. They kill people without thinking, without blinking."