Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
I pull my phone out and dial the number, but I don't tap the call button right away. What's the worst that happens? Someone answers and isn't interested? Or no one answers at all?
I call and it actually rings.
And rings. And rings. Finally the answering service connects. “Tanner. You know what to do.” His voice is coarse and short. He doesn't exactly sound pleasant, but then again, I bet Dragon’s message sounds about the same.
The beep sounds, signaling my turn to speak. Words come pretty easily for me when I’m typing, but out loud I stumble through my story, taking five times as long as I have to. I tell him about the box, and leave my number in case he wants to get in contact and get his stuff back. My good deed for the day.
So now I can take the rest of the day off, right? Never mind that I haven't written a word.
But first, washing off the grime from the attic.
15
WILLOW
“Maybe together we can get somewhere,” I belt out, singing along to my favorite playlist as I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself.
From the tiny room at the top of the stairs that I turned into my walk-in closet, I spot a figure jogging up my front path. It started to rain at some point, and is coming down pretty hard. I peer down, catching sight of Blackout before he vanishes under the roof of my porch. What's he doing here?
The doorbell rings, and then he knocks.
I should probably put clothes on, but a naughty little inner voice asks: Why?
He's seen more of me than most, including watching me come on Dragon's lap while he had his big dick in his hand. We're a little bit beyond modesty at this point.
Also, I’m feeling just frustrated enough at constantly getting interrupted when I’m with them that the thought of him helping me out of the towel and inspiring me sounds like a pretty good idea. So I tip toe barefoot down the stairs, clutching my towel so it doesn't slip, and open the door just a crack, the safety chain still on.
“Blackout?”
“Hey, you're home.” His deep green eyes sparkle like jade as he takes in what I’m not wearing. His lips quirk into a grin, and hair is glued to his skin in tight wet curls. “Bad time? Or perfect timing?”
“I don’t know. Will you behave if I let you in?”
He licks his lips like a hungry fox. “Not gonna make promises I can't keep with you looking like that, but I'll give it a try. Question is, do you want me to?” He leans his hand on the door frame, so his face is almost right up against mine, only the narrow open crack of the door between us. “I’ve got a thing or two I can teach you, I promise.”
I slide the security chain open. “Is that why you came?” Why is my heart beating so fast? Isn't this what I was hoping for?
He lets out a low chuckle as he comes into the house. “Haven’t come yet, honey. But actually, it's not. I got a favor to ask.”
I lock the door behind him, watching a little breathlessly as he shakes out his hair. He’s wearing a white t-shirt under his leather vest, and it’s practically see through and clinging to him like a second skin. So are his jeans.
“Want me to take some of this off so I don't get your place wet?” From the look in his eyes, he’s definitely noticed I’m staring. “Or do you want to do it for me?”
“Your boots at least, so you're not dragging water through the house. I'll find you a towel.”
He reaches out, making a half-hearted swipe for the towel I’m wearing. “Got one right there. I wouldn't mind borrowing.”
“Watch it!” I can't help but laugh at the grin on his face.
“I fucking am. You think I can take my eyes off you, girl? Jesus Christ.”
I stick out my tongue and run upstairs as he leans down to pull off his boots. Answering the door in a towel seemed playful, but should I get dressed now? Hm. I pull on pj pants and a tank top with a built-in shelf bra. It’s not nearly enough support, but feels like a good compromise. And it’s nothing that would, um, get in the way of wherever things might lead.
You know, just in case.
I make a point of throwing him the towel I was wearing. “Here.”
He snags it out of the air and presses it to his face, giving it a deep sniff. “Smells like you. Nice.”
Blushing, I scoot past him into the kitchen, while he dries his hair. “Do you want coffee or something to warm up?”
“Sure, if you’ve got it.”
“I work from home, on demand caffeine is basically my drug. Do you want it black like Dragon? Or are you a regular human who values their stomach lining?” I start the brewing process and turn just in time to watch him peel his wet shirt off. His torso is chiseled and muscular, with a particularly deep scar under his ribcage on the right. It looks like someone tried to run him through and nearly succeeded. As he towels off, I'll freely admit I watch. “Here, throw me the shirt and I'll toss it in the dryer.”