Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“No. Please, stay. Hey, Ash?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want Jeremy to get killed. Could you tell Ben and his friends that? I know they don’t give a crap about him, and this is his fault and everything, but…”
“What, you still feel like you owe him something for saving your life?”
“Yeah.” She knew Ashley would get it.
“Okay, I’ll relay the message. Take care of yourself.”
“You too. Have fun with that wolf of yours.”
“I will. Hasta luego, hermana.”
Melissa laughed at the horrible accent. Her sister’s Spanish sucked. “Talk to you later. Love you.”
She hung up smiling and flipped open the Chromebook Cody had bought her. It was surprisingly easy to set up and in no time at all, she had accessed her email and listings. Maybe working from Cody’s wouldn’t be all that bad, so long as she could conduct all business over the phone, rather than in person.
And working in her pajamas wasn’t half bad either, although she was ready for a shower. She stood and stretched, grabbed the bags of clothes Cody bought, and headed to the en suite bathroom.
Like the rest of Cody’s place, the bathroom could use a good cleaning. She wrinkled her nose at the mold growing in the corners of the tile and the ring around the tub.
Nasty. She wasn’t setting foot in that thing until it had been disinfected at least three times.
She looked under the sink and found cleaning supplies. With a pair of rubber gloves pulled up to her elbows, she broke out the Ajax and got on her hands and knees with a scrub brush.
An hour later she deemed the bathroom passable, and took her shower. Of course, the shampoo was total crap and there was no conditioner. Plus, she hated—hated—deodorant soaps. Yuck. Now she would smell like sudsy grass all day.
She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body before dumping the bags of clothing on Cody’s bed.
She snorted when she picked up a four-pack of the ugliest set of pastel granny panties she’d ever seen. He must’ve been joking with those. Maybe he was hoping it would kill the attraction between the two of them. Oh wow, purple leggings. She laughed out loud when she saw the tanktop that read Princess in fuchsia across the boobs. “Very funny, wolf man,” she muttered.
Some normal stuff was in the pile, too. He’d bought jeans in a size five and seven—she supposed he didn’t know which size would fit her. Several solid colored t-shirts and cute cotton panties that actually might fit. Nothing she would ever buy on her own, but it was better than wearing his shirt and boxer shorts.
She held up a very long pair of black and white witch socks that would probably serve as thigh-highs. He must’ve bought this stuff on purpose to goad her.
Perfect. If that’s what he wanted to see her in, she’d give him a show.
Cody unlocked the front door and pushed it open. And then stopped dead. Melissa was scrubbing his kitchen floor on her hands and knees wearing… holy shit.
He swallowed, his body temperature rising five degrees just looking at her. Melissa wore a pair of black and pink panties, which tragically covered most of her ass, but the backs of her thighs flashed bare above the long black and white socks he’d bought.
She turned and stood up on her knees, looking over her shoulder like a pinup star. On top she wore the Princess tank top with no bra, the peaked tips of her nipples plain through the thin fabric. She’d pulled her hair into pigtails—pigtails, dammit—and she rocked the Harley Quinn Suicide Squad thing to a tee.
He groaned, readjusting his cock in his jeans to ease the ache.
She twirled one pigtail and affected an innocent voice. “Were these the clothes you wanted to see me in, Cody?”
His mouth went dry. He backed against the door, not trusting himself to get anywhere near her. “I warned you what would happen if you played this game, didn’t I?” His voice rasped scratchy and low, hands tightened into fists at his sides, fingernails dug into his palms.
“It’s clearly your game. You dressed me.”
“You’re going to get yourself fucked so hard you’ll forget your own name.”
She stood up, lifting her chest, the perky tips of her breasts pointed directly at him. “You bought the clothes.”
Well, she was right about that. Except he’d bought them as a joke. Never in a million years had he imagined she would turn them into a sex kitten getup that would keep him perma-hard.
Do not move from this door. He willed his body to stay in place.
“You have three seconds to run for the bedroom and lock the door. Don’t come out until you’ve changed into…” he cleared his throat, “something I can handle seeing you in.”
She didn’t move, her blue eyes wide.