Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
His eyes definitely widen a touch. “No,” he answers flatly, looking back at his laptop, dismissing me.
My grin stretches as I drop to my knees at his feet. His bare feet. He has nice feet. I reach for his foot and try to pull it onto my lap. “I think this color will suit you.”
He fights my hold, pulling away. “Camille,” he warns, but I ignore him, wrestling with his foot. “Camille, what the hell are you doing?”
“Let me!” I insist, laughing, my amusement increasing when Heather joins me on the floor, helping me get Jake’s foot where I want it. Even with both of us, we’re no match for him. He shakes us both off and stands, leaving us falling to our arses.
I look up at him looming above me, my body shaking with amusement. I can see him gathering patience, breathing in deeply. Now he’s exasperated and I can’t help delighting in it. I expect him to stomp off at any moment to escape me and my annoying friend. But then he surprises me, rolling his eyes on a tiny huff of air and dipping, taking the tops of my arms and hauling me up. My laughter dries up in a second as he lifts me like I’m nothing. And he doesn’t release me once I’m on my feet. Probably a good thing, since I can’t feel my feet. Or my muscles. I can feel my heart, though. It’s going bonkers in my chest, and it only gets worse when he leans in, putting his lips to my ear. I freeze in his hold.
“I’ve told you, Camille,” he breathes, holding his mouth close. “I endure what I have to.” He drops his grip, leaving me trembling on the spot, and strides away. “I’ll be in the shower.”
“Oh…goodness.” Heather is next to me in a heartbeat, her hand on my arm. “Notice he didn’t help me up. And he’ll be in the shower? Was that an invite?”
I pull myself together and straighten my thoughts into line. “Don’t be stupid,” I mutter, making tracks to the kitchen to get more wine.
“Maybe, but can you imagine him naked? And wet?”
I silently beg for my best friend to shut the hell up and not fuel my already inappropriate thoughts. My plans to piss off Sharp have backfired. It’s me who’s pissed off. With myself.
* * *
After Heather has left, I stand with my back to the front door, my teeth sunken into my bottom lip. He didn’t return after showering. He left us to it, probably deciding he’d stomached enough of the girlie stuff. The thought should make me smile, but it doesn’t. All I can think about are the endless times I captured him watching me. He didn’t look pained. He looked content. The complete opposite of what I wanted or expected.
A yawn creeps up on me. I need to sleep, and, more importantly, turn off my whirling mind. I collect some of my designs from the table and make my way to my room, set on making a few notes on my sketches in bed. But just when I’m about to shut the door behind me, I hear him. I’m unable to stop myself from peeking out of the door in search of him, jumping when I find him right in front of me, freshly showered but fully dressed. My eyes cement themselves to his chest, imagining the flesh beneath his grey T-shirt as I toy with the sketches in my grasp.
“Camille?”
My eyes fly up to meet his. “Yes?”
He’s quiet for a few moments, thinking before he speaks. Then he reaches forward and takes one of my sketches. I remain quiet, silently amused as he scans the drawing. I bet he doesn’t even know what he’s looking at. “It’s good,” he muses, tilting his head a little. “What is it?”
“It’s a belt. Part of the accessory line I’ve designed.” I take the drawing back, laughing to myself. Why’s he being all friendly all of a sudden? “Want to model it for me?”
Unamused eyes get narrowed onto me. “I don’t wear belts.” He reaches to the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it up. I expect he’s showing me what will be empty belt hoops in his jeans, but all I can see is the taut stomach on display. My mouth dries up on me, and I reach for the door frame for support. Fucking hell. I could slice a finger on any one of the defined lines. “The only accessory I wear is a gun.” He turns on his bare feet and strolls away. “I can’t shoot you with a fucking belt.”
Just like that, my lust vanishes and my face contorts with rage. And with no words coming to me, I resort to slamming the door in a temper.
Chapter 9
JAKE
She’s doing this on purpose. I swear, all this girlie shit is turning my brain pink. All in all, I’m feeling pretty fucking pussy-ish right now.