Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
He grins this time, still accompanied by a twinge of pain rippling through his expression, and a quieter groan. “Because you were with me after it happened.” He brings my hand to his mouth. It’s good to see he has the strength, but it also tells me he has some healing to do. “You’re my own personal guardian angel. You stayed with me until I was rescued.” He kisses my hand before holding it to his chest above his heart.
I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but he sounds confident that I helped him somehow. I don’t need to know the details just yet. What’s most important is that he’s now safe and can recover completely. That means breaking him out of this place and setting him up at his apartment, where it’s more comfortable. “I’m glad you were rescued. I can’t lose you again.”
“You won’t. Not ever, Spark.” With a look that I’d liken more to lust than being injured by how his pupils widen when he catches my eyes, he says, “You know what I want?”
Should my body react to him on demand like this? Probably not, but I’m not stopping it. “What do you want, Poet?”
“I’d kill for some ramen.”
The laugh hits me quickly and escapes too loudly for being in a hospital room. I lean over and kiss the side of his head as he does mine so often. When I right myself, I reply, “I can make that happen.”
CHAPTER 26
KEATS
“Aguy could get used to this,” I say, tucking my arms under my head on the pillows piled behind me in bed. A smirk lifts my cheek like a damn creeper, but the view is fantastic.
Short T-shirt showing off her midriff.
Fitted workout pants give me a good look at her incredible ass.
And I’m certain she’s not wearing a bra by how her nipples peak against the cotton.
The vixen.
She knows what she’s doing. And it’s working.
How can my entire body be sore or worse, hurting, and my dick manages to sport an erection like I didn’t just get out of the hospital two days ago? I know the why and how. My Spark. I’m a lucky fucking guy.
“You seem to be already used to it,” she smarts with those pink lips I wouldn’t mind seeing wrapped around—“I have an apartment to see in an hour.” She glances at me, casually dropping the bomb as she walks into the bathroom while tucking her hair behind one ear.
I’m all for her having her independence and finally breaking free from the shackles of her family. But as a couple who haven’t made any declarations but are filling the leading roles, I’m starting to wonder what we’re doing. Or is it all just make-believe? It’s not for me.
She’s been here to see me every day since we reunited and spends the nights taking care of me like she lives here. No complaints from me. But is it fair to her?
I’m used to living alone. I’ve done it since I was a teen, but she hasn’t. So it’s a big ask to see if she wants to make this situation more permanent since she’s between places to live, and I’m enjoying her company. Selfishly, I hate it when she leaves, even when it’s only for a few hours to go to the hotel to change clothes or run errands before she returns.
I don’t think I can broach the topic without it coming off as possessive. Is that what it is? I don’t want to share her with anyone else. Fuck yes, I’m possessive of her. The smile shining just for me and a laugh ringing like church bells, summoning me to congregate at her altar, are big drivers of the emotion. I lick my lips, remembering just how sweet her altar tasted this morning.
I grin, unashamed. My tongue is working great.
Yeah, it’s probably too soon to talk about moving in, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking about it. Logically, it’s reckless to jump in like we’ve been together for years. But my heart could argue why this makes sense in front of the Supreme Court and win.
Propping myself up, I lean against the wooden headboard and ask, “Where’s the apartment?”
She comes galloping out of the bathroom with a huge smile on her face and climbs onto the bed next to me. “You’re going to love this. It’s only eight blocks from here.”
“Then what’s the point?” Shit. Why’d I say that? Her head tilts on the jolt back from her neck. The smile washed away under the tide of the insult. “I didn’t mean—”
“The point is I need a place to live.” With her arm flying in the opposite direction of her parents’ house, she says, “I can’t just go from their house to yours.”
I’ve already fucked this up, sooooo . . . “Why not?”