Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
"What the fuck does that even mean?" I ask, laughing.
"I don't know!" she cries. "But I don't think it's a good thing, Noah."
"You aren't cheugy. You're perfect."
Her eyes widen, her lips parting slightly.
Shit. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I don't want to send her running when this is precisely where I want her but fuck it. I'm not going to lie to her. She is perfect. So I don't take it back, try to downplay it, or laugh it off. I let it hang for a moment, just long enough for her to fully absorb the comment before I snag the remote from the table.
"You picked last time. It's my turn."
She blinks like she's just coming back to herself, her gaze falling to the remote in my hand. "Oh. I guess we're watching Tiger King then."
"No, you smartass. We aren't watching fucking Tiger King." I eye her sideways. "What is it with you and Joe Exotic?"
There's no mistaking the hilarity in her expression when she looks at me with those dimples out in full force. "So, you have watched it!" she cries, as if she's just learned my deepest, darkest secret.
"Maybe," I mutter, earning another bright peal of laughter from her. It's fucking worth it, especially after the conversation about her dad. Elsie Cameron wasn't made for grief and sadness. She was meant for laughter.
I flip on the television before scrolling to Netflix and starting the next episode of Breaking Bad.
"A cop watching a show about a meth-dealing teacher, huh?" she teases, peeking over at me. "Interesting. I bet a shrink would have a field day with you, Noah Kirk."
I grin, shaking my head. "Watch the show, smartass."
An hour later, the locksmith finally shows up. It takes him all of fifteen minutes to get her back inside her house. I linger for several minutes after he's gone, reluctant to head back to my place. It feels warmer with her there.
"So…" she says, "looks like you're no longer stuck with me."
"Looks like it." I lean against the doorframe. "You going to keep your windows locked from now on?"
"Yes, Detective."
I narrow my eyes at her, but she just grins. And then she squeaks like she just remembered something.
"Oh!" She dashes into the house, kicking her heels off as she goes. "Stay right there. I have dessert for you."
I swear to God, if it's not her naked, I'm going to break shit tonight…
I watch her ass until she vanishes around the corner into her dining room and then discreetly adjust my cock. I barely have time to reposition the hard fucker before she's scurrying back toward me.
"What is that?" I ask, eyes narrowed on the frosting container in her hands.
"Dessert," she says simply, holding out a spoon to me.
I glance between her and the container and then back again. "Sweetness, that's what goes on top of dessert."
"Yes, but if you eat it by itself, it doesn't have calories," she says, prying the lid off to reveal a fresh container of coconut pecan frosting.
"Yeah, you're gonna have to run that by me again." I dip my spoon into the container, scooping out a bite.
"There are no calories unless it goes on the cake," she says. "It's simple math. The calories only exist in the finished product, not individual pieces of it."
"Uh…"
"It's the same reason why things are free if you buy them with cash."
"I'm concerned that you're allowed to teach actual children," I mutter. "Because none of that bullshit you just said is reality, Elsie."
"Oh, really? Then, if you have fifty dollars in your bank account, and you spend two dollars in cash on a jar of frosting, how much money do you still have in your bank account?" she demands, one hand propped on her hip.
"You still paid money for it."
"Yes, but you didn't pay money from your account for it, so it doesn't count."
I shake my head at her, popping the spoonful of frosting into my mouth. The shit is good. But when she takes a bite, she moans like it's the best damn thing she's ever had in her mouth. And my pants are so goddamn tight, I need to get the fuck out of here before she's the next thing I'm tasting.
She moans again, and I lean forward, brushing my lips across her cheek because I can't help myself.
"Behave, Dimples," I growl, pressing my spoon into her hand before I step back. "And keep your windows locked!"
I practically race down the steps, desperate to get home and take care of the situation in my pants before I explode.
Fucking hell.
Who knew watching her eat frosting from a container could be so goddamn sexy?
Chapter Five
Noah
"Jesus Christ," I groan, hiding in my curtains like a goddamn lunatic, my eyes locked on Elsie through the glass. She's washing her car. There is soap and water, and she's in a T-shirt and these little fucking shorts that don't even qualify as shorts.