Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I collapse onto Livia and she takes my weight without complaint, her hands sliding up and down my sweat-sheened back.
I suck in a breath and roll off her, staring at the ceiling.
The early LA morning peeks in beneath the curtains and I consider with brutal clarity that I stayed the entire night in Livia’s bed.
I drove her douche of an ex off that sidewalk, walked her upstairs, and fucked her.
Then I slept in this bed with her and woke up and fucked her again, and it was even better. Now I’m lying here staring at the ceiling, wondering how I never knew how good morning sex could be.
I’ve been with enough women to know the difference between wanting someone for a release and wanting someone for an experience. The latter is the inconvenient one.
I turn my head and look at Livia.
She’s flat on her back, sheet low on her belly with full breasts bearing red marks from my mouth. She too is staring at the ceiling and I wait for it.
I wait for her to pull the sheet up and for the bright light of day to bring back her professional composure. I even wait for her to give me the guilt speech, how she should have never crossed the line with me. I know she’s been chewing on that since that very first time she kissed me.
But she doesn’t say anything. Whatever is moving behind her eyes, causing that slight curve to her mouth that looks a lot like repletion, it certainly doesn’t resemble the guilt spiral I was bracing for.
“What are you thinking about?” I can’t help but ask.
She huffs out a breath but not at the question. “I want to go for a run.”
Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting.
She twists her head on the pillow to look at me. “But I don’t know what’s around the next corner. Or who, rather.” She lets out a dramatic sigh. “And I hate running on a treadmill. I hate everything about treadmills.”
I look at her, not sure what to say. Not sure I’m following.
Where’s the guilt I was waiting for, and yes, preparing to argue against?
She hasn’t uttered a syllable about crossing a line, nor has she invoked her professional ethics or even lamented that she might have let Patrick Rowe down by sleeping with a team player.
Instead, she sits up and I get sidetracked by her amazing breasts I thoroughly worshipped last night and this morning.
“Oh well,” she says with a shrug. “He’s not going to do anything in broad daylight. Grant’s reckless but he’s not stupid.”
She rolls out of bed and starts pulling clothes out of her bag and I watch this for approximately two seconds before it hits me all at once what the fuck she’s talking about.
She’s worried that her ex could be waiting for her again, and she’s going to go for a run despite that.
Oh, fuck no.
“He can absolutely make a move on you in broad daylight,” I growl.
She glances at me over her shoulder. “I’m not going to live in fear, Locke.”
“I’m not asking you to live in fear. I’m asking you to run on a fucking treadmill for one morning.”
She frowns at me. “You can’t order me around.”
“You were shaking like a leaf last night. Terrified. Remember that feeling?”
I watch that hit her hard and she inhales a sharp breath of remembrance. She seems to consider the danger, but then straightens, turning to me with her shirt in hand.
“True,” she says with a bright smile. “But that was last night. This is this morning.”
“Absolutely not,” I say, scrambling out of bed and coming toe to toe with her.
Her eyes travel down the length of my body and had I not just had the mother lode of all orgasms a minute ago, I might try to fuck some sense into her.
Her gaze lifts to meet mine and she tilts her head. “If you’re so worried about it, come with me.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Run with you?”
“Yeah… it’s only five miles,” she says. “It won’t wreck your legs for the game.”
This is the moment.
It’s where I can take a step back and put space between us. It shouldn’t matter to me that she wants to go running, potentially facing a dangerous stalker who could be lurking out on the sidewalk even as we fight about this.
I could let her go and put that wall back firmly in place.
But yeah… it fucking matters. “Give me five minutes to get my gear on.”
Admittedly, the run was nice and there was no stalker ex-boyfriend waiting to jump her. Or maybe there was and I just didn’t see him. I was on high alert as we ran along the city blocks around the hotel and I never fully relaxed into it.
Even as we walk to cool down, my eyes shift left and right.