Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I lift the pup to my shoulder and carry him with one arm, gripping my coffee with the other hand.
Let the fireworks begin.
The doorman holds the door open for me as I approach.
“Hi, Grayson.” I made a point of learning the giant burly guard’s name yesterday. I’m trying to get him past the formal phase, but he resists.
“Ms. Cook.” He gives the puppy a slightly alarmed look. “Does Mr. White know you’re bringing a dog to his premises?”
“It couldn’t be helped.” I breeze by him, straight to the elevators, even though I know he has to use his keycard for me to access Billy’s floor.
The puppy barks at Grayson, squirming in my arms to be let down.
“Nuh uh.” I turn the pup to look at me and give him a stern look. He attempts to lick me.
Grayson steps into the elevator, presses his keycard to the sensor, then hits the button for Billy’s floor.
The puppy barks at him again.
“Good luck with that.” He sounds dry, which makes me think we are actually becoming friends after all.
I flash him a broad smile. “I’m expecting the worst.”
As the doors close, I catch his brows pop in surprise, and I hear him mutter, “Oh, boy,” as the elevator ascends.
When I arrive on the upper floor, Billy’s door is open, and I waltz in, ready for him to freak out.
He’s in the kitchen, making an espresso. His hair is still wet from a shower, his pinstriped button-down shirt gaps open at the throat. A tie with black and gray stripes lies beside him on the kitchen counter.
Oh…damn. I’m unprepared for how hot this not-quite-dressed look is on him. I wonder what he’d look like stepping out of the shower. Is there hair on his chest? Or is he the kind of guy who waxes his back and chest?
I wonder what it would be like to be tied up with that tie of his…
So many unanswered questions.
The biggest one is, will I find out the answers to all of them? I know I could. The better question is, should I?
Billy’s nostrils flare as he whirls to look at me.
“What. Is. That?” He metes his words out like punishment.
“This little guy just got thrown out of a car.” I lift the pup’s face to mine to give his head a kiss.
“And you brought it here, why?”
To torment you.
“Where else was I going to bring it?” I ask with mock innocence.
“To the pound. Where abandoned mutts belong.”
As if the little dog senses his disapproval, it tucks its little tail and whimpers.
He strides toward us, and the dog whimpers louder. “Did it pee on you?”
“What? You can smell it?” I hold the dog away to survey where the pee dribbled. It wasn’t that much–I can’t believe he can smell it.
He reaches for the dog, and I pull the little guy away to protect him.
Billy’s mask is his usual cruel visage, but he doesn’t appear any more annoyed than other times. “Give me the mutt. You go clean up.”
I hesitate. I seriously don’t trust this guy not to throw the dog off his balcony.
Well, maybe that’s too ungenerous. I hold the dog out doubtfully, and he takes it, lifting the pup eye to eye with him. “Be nice to Pepper.”
“You named him already?”
I give him a flippant why wouldn’t I? shrug.
Pepper whimpers and tries to lick Billy.
He stares at Pepper for a moment. I don’t know what in the hell he’s doing–but then he says, “that’s right,” like they’ve come to some understanding.
Since I was going for a sexy vibe and smelling like dog pee isn’t, I take his advice and head to the bathroom to get cleaned up.
When I return, I find him with his shirt sleeves rolled up, his watch on the counter by the tie. The corded muscles of his forearms flex as he washes the dog in his kitchen sink.
Oh, damn.
My ovaries just dropped an egg. Maybe two.
That should not be so sexy, but for some reason, it winds my crank. I’m not sure if it’s the view of his forearms, the semi-domestic sight of him at the sink, or seeing the normally cold, stiff asshole doing something generous for another being.
Even if that being is a little dog.
The drenched waif shivers, tail wagging, big brown eyes staring adoringly up at Billy.
He looks over at me. “What do you intend to do with this thing?”
I set my paper cup down on his glass coffee table and kick off my boots. “Honestly? I haven’t developed a plan beyond annoying you by bringing him here.”
Billy’s eyes shine in that strange silver-blue sheen they sometimes take on. “Was that your plan with the credit card, too?”
Something about being called out makes my nipples tighten. Like I want him to punish me over this. Want to see what happens when the mighty Billy Billions attempts to flex his power over me.