Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
"They aren't going to break in, Mason," she says, laughing quietly.
I turn, shooting her a look hot enough to scorch the planet. "No, but I might."
The way she whimpers is going to kill me. It'll be listed right there on my death certificate under cause of death. Olive's hot-as-fuck whimpers. I can't get enough of them.
Hell. I can't get enough of her.
I barely sleep all night. Instead, I stalk my window like I'm on guard duty. I'm not even sure if I'm checking to ensure she's safe, if I'm hoping to catch another glimpse of her, or if I'm waiting to see if she does try to go streaking through the neighborhood. All I know for sure is that I've got it bad.
By the time the sun comes up, I'm at the hardware store, buying the best fucking locks on the market. I hit up an electronics store next, grabbing a security camera for her front door and another for her backyard. Maybe it's overkill. I don't know. I've never felt like this. I've never had something precious enough to protect.
I do now, and I'm not fucking it up.
She's dressed in the tiniest pair of shorts known to man when I knock on her door. Her hair is a wild mess, a pillow crease still on her cheek. She looks ravishing, utterly fuckable, and adorable all at the same time.
"I dreamed about you," she blurts by way of greeting.
"Yeah?" I look her up and down. "Were they kinky dreams, Rebel?"
"No." She scrubs her hands over her face like she's trying to get her head together. "You were a prophetic parrot named Heathcliff, and you and Oscar ate the mailman."
"Jesus Christ." I chuckle, striding forward to kiss the fuck out of her. "At least I wasn't a serial killer."
"You ate a mailman, Mason," she mumbles before melting into my embrace with a soft sigh.
I palm her ass, squeezing one plump cheek.
She gasps, grinding against me.
"Keep that up, and it won't be your doorknob getting drilled today, Olive," I growl, nipping her lip before I set her away from me. "I came to work."
She looks me up and down, licking her lips. "Are you going to do it shirtless?"
I set the bags on her coffee table, chuckling. "Is that a hint, Rebel?"
"Maybe."
I reach over my shoulder, yanking my shirt up over my head. It lands on her couch before I meet her gaze, smirking. "Happy now?"
"What?" Her gaze crawls all over me, her eyes glossy. Christ, I love the way she's looking at me like she wants to climb me and have her filthy way.
"You happy now, baby?"
"Almost," she whispers. "Ask again when you're sweaty."
"I'll do that."
She grins at me, completely unrepentant, and I swear to Christ, I feel myself falling harder. I don't know what kind of magic she has or what the fuck this is, but I like it. A whole fucking lot.
"Grrr."
I glance down in time to see Oscar come racing out of the hallway, ready to fuck me up. It's hard to take him seriously when he's in pajamas with rubber ducks all over them and a goddamn bonnet. When he realizes it's just me, he skids to a stop at my feet, his warning growl turning to an excited yip.
"Hey, Killer." I scoop him up in one hand, stroking his tiny nose. "You babysitting your mama today?"
His tongue lolls out.
"More like he's going to terrorize me while I bathe him," she mutters, watching him with a smile on her face.
"He doesn't like baths?"
"Oh, he does. It's getting him out that's the problem." She rolls her eyes. "He has opinions about being evicted from his spa."
"You want me to bathe him?"
"I can do it." She flashes me a bright smile, gathering her hair back into a quick ponytail. "I'm going to make breakfast first. Are you hungry?"
I look her up and down. "I could eat."
Her cheeks turn pink. "For food, Mason."
"I could eat," I repeat, smirking. "Matter of fact…" I set Oscar on his feet before stalking toward her.
"W-what are you doing?" she asks, licking her lips when I hook my hands around her waist, boosting her up onto a desk pushed up against the wall.
"I want dessert first," I growl.
She whimpers, her eyes going glossy. The pulse in her throat jumps.
I run my hands down her thighs, loving the way her skin feels beneath my palms. She's so damn soft, so sweet. I kneel between her legs, my eyes locked on hers. "You going to be good and let me eat, Rebel?"
"Y-Yes," she whispers.
"Lift up." I tap her hip, helping to balance her and rip her shorts and panties down her legs at the same time. As soon as they're off, I toss them over my head.
Oscar growls and chases after them. I catch him disappearing down the hall, dragging her shorts with him, but I've got more important matters to deal with right now.