Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“Won’t you be cold?” I said kindly, hopefully. I really didn’t want to wear the hat.
The look I got, his flat, intense stare, told me not to screw with him. I put it on and rolled my eyes before smiling for the man whose name was on our front door.
“Thank you for the wonderful evening, sir.”
He nodded, acknowledging my appreciation, but still gazing at us oddly, back and forth, Colton, then me, then back to Colton. “Thank you for coming. Do get some rest, Colt, and let me know if you need to take Monday off.”
Quick scowl. “I have to be in court at nine in the morning on Monday. Do me a favor and don’t worry about us, everything’s handled.”
“I didn’t say the two of you. I said you, Colt.”
“What?” He sounded both annoyed and bored.
Normally I would have elbowed him, but there were stitches on the side closest to me, so I leaned into him and whispered the command to be nice.
“Sorry, we need to get going,” he told our boss. “We’ll see you later.”
“I will expect you tomorrow,” he reiterated to Colton. “I need you there to dazzle our existing clients as well as new ones we hope to take on.”
He nodded but didn’t commit. We turned to go, waiting while others came in, greeting Mr. Somerset, and then we went out the front door and into the hall. There were three apartments on this floor, above him being a penthouse I couldn’t even imagine. Who needed that much space?
Waiting for the elevator, even though I was worried about what was going to happen, I wasn’t as scared as I would have been if he hadn’t been there. He was, after all, my person.
THREE
On the elevator, he yawned so wide, I heard his jaw crack.
“I hate it when you do that.”
“As much as you hate listening to me eat?” he asked snidely. I guess maybe I’d said that too many times over the years.
“Lemme think.”
“Screw you,” he snapped. “But listen, I need you to hit the high points for me on this situation before we reach the pub.”
“Not to be tedious,” I began, “as you’ve said I am on a number of occasions, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He grunted but didn’t say because he wasn’t ready to. I suspected it was the elevator; he wanted us off so we could speak privately. He didn’t like to share much outside of our circle of two.
As people got on, he took hold of my bicep and moved me back close to him, shielding me, putting me in the corner and stepping in front. There was no way at all for me to get out. It should have been suffocating. It should have made me hyperventilate. But it didn’t. Ever. Not with him.
It was the strangest thing, but from the first moment I met him to now, as he yanked me after him out of the elevator, I could not logically account for my reaction to the man.
He was bigger than me, six-two to my five-nine. He carried a lot of hard, lean, roping muscle on his broad-shouldered, wide-chested frame, and he did not know the meaning of the word gentle. Always, from the start, he’d manhandled me. Just like now. If I’d planted my feet, he would have still moved me. The man didn’t hear no from me or wait or stop because none of those words ever altered his course. He also had a rubber ball in his desk at work that he would use to get my attention, hurling it at me if I didn’t answer him fast enough. And God help me if I didn’t remember to duck. It was pretty solid, one of the ones he played handball with, and it killed a desk lamp the one time I missed it rushing toward me and didn’t catch it. To other people, I suspected that our relationship appeared abusive, how he treated me like I belonged to him, but unlike how it had been when another man had called me his property, Colton never hurt me. Even in his haste, he was careful. He also checked on me. Constantly.
What did I eat? Was I drinking enough water? Was I cold? Was I hot? When I was sick, he showed up with soup, Gatorade, and vitamins. And it was the same with me. I had keys for everything from his car to his loft and even knew the combination to his locker at the gym. I could unlock his phone, and if, heaven forbid, anything happened to him, I was the one who knew what to do, whom to call, had all his passwords, and would clear the search history on his laptop at home.
How he was, like a grouchy, growly, pissed-off lion, should have had me doubled over in a corner in a fetal position, but…I knew him. From the second I laid eyes on him, it was like I saw him so clearly. He roared a lot, yes, but for me, not because of me. He was overly protective, and in those weird times when something or someone would scare me, some trigger setting me off that I hadn’t anticipated, I had him to turn to.