Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
"How's that going for you?" I ask, stopping right behind her.
"Not so well," she admits. "Turns out, I'm a coward."
I take a chance and reach out, curving my hand around her waist. She spins toward me, looking up at me with those big green eyes that see all the way to my goddamn soul.
"I'm so, so, so, so sor—"
I cut her off with my lips on hers.
She gasps, giving me the opening I've been dreaming about for two weeks already. I yank her into my arms, my tongue flicking against hers in a way that's less kissing and more a demonstration of what I plan to do to her as soon as she'll let me.
I devour her, tasting mint, coffee, and that sweetness that's stamped into every inch of her. She quivers against me, making this sound that has my dick pressing up against my fly, hard and desperate.
The book in her hand tumbles to the floor before she's got her fingers in my hair, anchoring my body to hers, kissing me back with the same desperation. The way she moves against me is a goddamn dream. Believe me, I know. I've had nothing but dreams about her since she told me she was stealing mail.
"Fuck," I groan, grinding my dick against her soft belly. "I've been losing my mind over you, Rebel."
"I'm sorry."
I crane her head back, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Say whatever it is you need to say so I can say what I need to say."
She stares at me for just a moment before taking a big breath. "I'm so sorry that I thought you were a serial killer and called the police on your bird. I feel like a jerk, and I'd really, really like it if you'd forgive me."
"Forgiven," I growl.
She blinks wide eyes at me. "What? Really? Just like that?"
"Yeah, baby, just like that." I chuckle, stroking the side of her face. "Honestly? I'm surprised you're the only one who's called 9-1-1 on Paulina. She repeats lines from Law & Order like she's auditioning for a role, and she's fucking smart, so she does it at the worst possible times. I think she wants the world to think I'm a goddamn serial killer."
Olive's lips twitch. "She was screaming for help."
"She does that when she's pissed at me."
"She was also screaming murder."
"Yeah, she does that, too. She also calls me an asshole fifty times a day, has a crush on Stabler, and will shit in my laundry out of spite if I leave the bathroom door open."
"I thought you had someone chained up in your basement."
"I'm guessing my choice of reading material didn't help, did it?" Jesus. No wonder she's been so goddamn suspicious of me. She was losing her mind, worried I had someone chained up in my house, and I was just strolling in, buying the most unhinged, serial-killer smut available.
Fuck my life. I asked for help finding a book about a man who had a woman chained to his bed. I was just teasing her at the time, but I'm guessing she probably didn't see it that way. In retrospect, probably not the kind of book to ask for help finding when your hot-as-fuck neighbor thinks you're a serial killer, and you're about to ask her out.
"You're being way too nice about this," she mutters. "You're supposed to be offended and angry."
"I'm not. Having the police show up at the door, demanding to be taken to whoever was screaming was not ideal, but the look on their faces when they saw Paulina in her cage, screaming about murder and calling me an asshole was priceless." I chuckle at the memory. "Don't think they're going to forget it anytime soon."
"I'm so sorry," Olive groans, faceplanting into my chest.
"Baby," I say, chuckling. "It's all good. I got a good laugh out of it, and so did the responding officers. They got a video to take back to the precinct, and they get to tell everyone forever that a bird demanded they arrest me."
Olive giggles softly. "So…what you're saying is that your bird is a savage like Oscar."
"Pretty much," I confirm. "She bites, too. She was normal before my mom died. I probably shouldn't have tried to console her with Law & Order. Now, she's addicted and diabolical."
Olive sobers, pulling back to peek up at me. "Can we…can we start over?" she asks hopefully. "I promise not to assume you're a serial killer this time."
"We can," I say, "but I have one condition."
It's cute how fucking nervous she looks. "O-okay?"
"Go out with me."
I want to kiss the surprise from her face, then tumble her to the floor and fuck her raw, in that order.
"You still want to go out with me?"
"Why wouldn't I? I mean, I know you wash your hair and shave now," I tease. "You basically check all my boxes."