Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
I get out of bed huffing and puffing, closing the lapels of my robe; the tie wrapped around my waist is already secure. And when I look out the peephole of my front door, I’m met with no other than Sly. “Son of a bitch,” I mutter all too loudly considering my paper-thin walls. I unhook the chain, unlock the deadbolt, and then flip the tumbler on the handle. Mom and Dad are nothing if not thorough in making sure their girls are safe even if we are in our thirties. Honestly, I’m surprised we don’t have some kind of alarm on every window. And don’t even get me started on the window breakers, fire extinguisher, and carbon monoxide along with fire alarms in the common areas. I think this is his way of protecting us from afar while simultaneously trying to hold on to the thought that his little girls are grown up.
“That’s quite a dirty mouth you have on you, Doe.” Sly takes up the whole doorway, his body filling it like only he can. His manly presence takes up every breath. I can smell the scent of his cologne, see the upturned lip with a crookedness to his grin, and when his hands move to my upper body and he walks me backwards, it’s me who feels a zing starting at the base of my spine and working its way upwards.
“What are you doing here? I told you I didn’t need a ride to work.” My tone of voice comes out breathless. The fluffy and soft fabric of my thick colorful robe helps hide what Sly does to me. Nipples would no doubt show exactly how pebbled they are if not for the barriers, and my thighs clenching, totally showable. I make a mental note to wear extra clothes whenever Sylvester is around.
“And I told you I’d pick you up. Now go get dressed. I’ll rebandage your wrist. We’ll stop on the way in to grab breakfast. Coffee will have to wait till we’re at the office.” He says it so matter-of-factly, leaving no room to compromise, especially when his head dips down and he places a kiss on the corner of my lips. “Go get dressed, Doe. One pull, and your robe would be open. I’ve got the imagination with what I’d do with you, and a man can only hold back for so long after the glimpse I got of you yesterday. Now I’ve got another fantasy. One where you’re naked, spread open, and tied up for me.” As much as his idea turns me on, it also makes me pause, thinking things to death, realizing this has bad idea written all over it. If only I could tell my over-sensitized body the same thing. I don’t respond, choosing my flight over fight. Sylvester’s chuckle echoes through my apartment, and the second I’m in my bedroom, I slam the door shut. At least I had the smarts to lay out my outfit for the day, making my task easier than pouring over my closet longer than necessary. You know, something more sensible than a white shirt, coffee potentially spilling and landing me back where I was yesterday. On the bed are camel-colored slacks hitting me at mid-calf, pin straight, a pleat down the middle, black heels, and a black long-sleeved blouse to hide the bandages I’m currently sporting. Crap, I am such a mess.
SIX
Sly
“Fuck it,” I say to the empty foyer. Staying in one spot isn’t helping the thoughts raging through my mind. The need to knock down her bedroom door, breaking down every barrier Fawn attempts to put between us, is wearing thin. My cock is relentless in its pursuit, practically leading me around like a dog on a damn leash. I walk further into her space and see a blanket draped over the couch, magazine lying open, an empty glass on the side table. The open floor plan leaves little to the imagination; it tells me enough, though. Fawn likes things clean and lives simply, which is an oddity, because the woman is anything but plain. She’s a wild card, throwing me for a loop with everything she does, the way she talks, the way she moves; it gets me harder than winning a court case.
“Doe, sweetheart, we’ve got to get moving if I’m going to change your bandages.” The door to her bedroom is cracked open. Keeping away, not barging through, and watching as she gets dress is damn hard, almost too damn hard.
“One more minute.” I should give her privacy. I won’t, though, not when I’m at her doorway in a handful of steps, palm pressed against the door, pushing it open. I’m greeted with her back, pants on yet loose along her waist. Witnessing Doe struggling to put her shirt on has me walking toward my beauty.