Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Except, I have to face my furry tormentor before the neighbors complain about the noise.
I swing my legs off the bed, nabbing the first T-shirt I find off the back of my desk chair. It’s long enough to cover my ass and probably has at least one cat hair woven into the fabric. I shoot Beckett a mournful look. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the monster.”
He grins, all rumpled hair and stubble and muscles, the sheet barely covering his lower half. “If I don’t make it, tell Pork and Beans I died bravely.”
This man.
I tiptoe to the door, open it, and am immediately face-planted by a wall of orange fur. Mr. Snugglebutt launches himself at my ankle, ricochets off my bare foot, and careens down the hall like a deranged linebacker.
“Nice to see you, too,” I mutter, following him to the kitchen.
He hops up onto the counter, glaring at me with all the fury of a thousand hangry lionesses. His tail is bottle-brushed. His eyes are narrowed to dangerous, glittering slits.
“Chill, Mr. Drama Queen.” I open the cabinet and pull out his favorite can. “You’re not even starving. I fed you before bed.”
Mr. Snugglebutt meows, this time adding a whiny undertone that feels deeply personal. Judging by the way his tail twitches, he’s debating whether or not to look for a new owner.
I pop the lid on the can and flop the contents into his blue ceramic bowl. The distinct bouquet of “Freshwater Salmon Feast” assaults my nostrils, and I gag a little. Mr. Snugglebutt lunges for his portion like he hasn’t eaten in days.
I sigh and lean against the fridge, bracing for round two.
Except… the apartment is suddenly quiet again. Just the scrape of Mr. Snugglebutt’s bowl and my own heart thumping in my chest.
Right behind me, the bedroom door creaks open, and Beckett appears in just his jeans with his hair sticking up at wild angles.
Holy hell. Even half-dressed and sleep-rumpled, he’s a walking, talking, straight-up Greek god.
He squints at me, then at Mr. Snugglebutt, who’s lost in his breakfast ecstasy.
“Looks like you got to him before he died of hunger,” Beckett deadpans, ambling over and curling an arm around my waist. I could live in the sensation of his palm splayed against my hip.
“Barely.” I yawn, letting myself lean into his chest. “It was touch and go for a few minutes.”
Beckett nuzzles my temple, lips brushing my hairline. “Now that you’ve taken care of the cat, I want your attention.”
Oh, sweet Jesus. He tugs me closer, burying his nose in my hair. “Why don’t we shower together and conserve some water?”
I perk up at the suggestion. “I live to do right by the planet.”
He grins, wolfish and sweet at the same time. “My kinda girl.”
God. My ovaries are throwing a ticker tape parade in his honor.
Beckett grabs my hand, his palm dwarfing mine, and tugs me gently toward the bathroom.
We shut the bathroom door behind us, locking out the rest of the world. The air is cool, but the second Beckett sheds his jeans, things get steamy in a hurry.
He’s so freaking gorgeous. I’m one lucky girl.
He turns the shower on, testing the spray, then grins at me over his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll wash your back first.”
Wordlessly, I shed the T-shirt. He watches, blatantly, lips curving into a dangerous smile. My nerves flicker for half a second, but Beckett doesn’t give me time for panic. He laces his fingers with mine, kisses the inside of my wrist, then steps back and lets me join him under the hot, pounding water.
The shower blasts away the last traces of sleep and sex. Pretty soon, the bathroom’s fogged to high heaven. My hair frizzes instantly, but Beckett doesn’t seem to mind. He takes the bottle of shampoo from me and pours some into his palm. As he massages shampoo into my scalp, I lean back against his wet, muscular body.
I stand under the spray, eyes closed as his fingers gently work conditioner through my hair. “Holy cow, that feels so good.” My purr would make Mr. Snugglebutt proud.
He chuckles, vibrating behind me. “You like it when I play with your hair, huh?”
I lean back into him, shameless. “Best thing ever.”
His mouth brushes my shoulder, teeth nipping before his tongue licks away the sting. My knees almost buckle. He spins me around so my back is against the cool tile, then his hands cage me in.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He kisses me, rough and deep, water cascading over our faces.
We stumble a little, and Beckett steadies me with a hand on my ass, squeezing and causing my blood to heat.
I’m officially one hundred percent jelly, but Beckett never lets me slip. I brace my hands on his chest and let him back me against the tile. Fuck. His eyes go molten, and the look on his face is pure, filthy promise. “If you keep touching me like that, I’m going to be late for work,” I manage, even though my brain is screaming to ditch the clinic and climb this man like a cat tree.