Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Just thinking about Jamie inside me is doing too many things to my body, and I need to focus. Like right now.
I peel Jamie’s arm from my chest and sneak out from under him until I’m able to slide off the mattress. He rolls over, his eyes still closed, a soft sound creeping from his lips. He’s even more attractive when he’s sleeping, as if that were even possible.
A hint of light creeps through the slit in the curtains. It’s only six o’clock, and I don’t have a class for another two hours. Living off-campus has its disadvantages, the ability to roll out of bed late being one of them. I have to take two buses to get to campus every day. Now, I only have a five-minute walk to Penn Hall. I could get used to this, though I don’t want to get too comfortable.
For the first time, I get a good look at Jamie’s bedroom. Movie and television posters cover the walls of his bedroom. Characters from Star Trek, Marvel Comics, and Mage Wars are the most prominent.
I still can’t believe his dad is the creator of one of the most popular video game universes in the world. The Fallen Universe is Marvel big, and from what I’ve read, a major movie deal is in the works. I knew Jamie was rich, but he’s like the young Tony Stark of Strickland University, and it’s such a turn-on.
A large, mesh spider web covers half of one wall. Nestled inside it are figurines of characters from Spider-Man. Below the web is a long wooden desk where four computer monitors are flashing different screensavers. Boxes of what appear to be computer equipment, stacked neatly against the wall on the floor next to an executive rolling chair.
Stepping into Jamie’s bedroom is almost like getting a personal tour through his mind. He has handwritten notes on tablets covering his desk, scattered all over the place. He scribbled The Queen on a piece of paper and circled her name several times in red marker. As I glance at the notes, I spot The Queen several more times. There’s a list of numbers that look like IP addresses written on a notepad.
Is he tracking The Queen, the new gossip blogger who’s haunting the guys on his team? My sorority sisters love her app. They devour every single picture and post. Almost everyone on campus has downloaded the Dethroned app, hanging on every word this girl writes.
By the looks of it, Jamie’s a little obsessed with this girl. She’s probably someone on campus with an ax to grind against the Kane twins. Though he’s never been mean to me, Tucker’s an asshole. He goes through women faster than he changes socks.
The more I peek at Jamie’s things, I feel like I’m violating his privacy. Realizing my mistake, I step away from his desk and get dressed. Jamie removed my clothes so fast last night, distracting me with all the orgasms he gave me, that I missed tucking Cameron into bed. I’ve missed calls from my parents along with a few texts.
Shit, I never forget to call home.
Quickly, I type out a message to my mom, telling her I stayed at the Kappa Delta chapter house. I don’t do it often, though I have spent the night in the past. Not like I can afford to pay the hefty fee to live there.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m missing out on forming stronger connections with my sisters because of my financial situation. But I’m not like them. Money isn’t an issue for most of them. So, I use my brother as an excuse for why I can’t move into the house.
After I shove the phone into my pocket, I close the door behind me and then head downstairs. No one is awake at this hour. The house is unusually quiet, still a disheveled mess from last night. I would lose my mind if I lived here. The couch cushions are all over the floor in the living room. The guys have unopened mail spread across the dining room table. The sink overflows with dishes. I wanted to surprise Jamie and make breakfast for him.
Maybe I should rethink the idea.
Unable to work with the mess, I load plates and cups into the dishwasher. I let out a sigh of relief as the pile slowly disappears, making more room for me to cook. After the kitchen is clean enough, I make a pot of coffee, fill a carafe I doubt they have ever used with orange juice, and begin frying two packages of bacon.
I hum Mr. Rizzo’s favorite song as I flip pieces of bacon in the frying pan. There’s something about singing and cooking that calms my nerves. As a child, I loved helping my mom on Sunday mornings. My love of food and cooking began years ago. And once I started working at the bakery in high school, I fell in love with baking cupcakes and pastries.