Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
After wandering aimlessly around my apartment for a little while, I pour a scotch and sit by the window, glass cold in my hand, willing myself to calm the fuck down. I barely take a sip before my phone buzzes.
Armand
On the way up with your order.
Before I have time to respond, the elevator dings, and Armand steps into the penthouse, pizza box balanced effortlessly in one hand. He’s in his standard uniform of black suit, open collar, with a look that says he’s confused by my recent actions. Me too, friend. Me too.
He surveys me, eyebrow arched. "Will you need anything else from me tonight?”
“No. I won’t be leaving the building tonight. I’ll be having dinner with Alice on the eighth floor.”
“Very well.” He hands me the pizza and heads to the door. “Enjoy your dinner.”
“Thanks.” I grab the pizza and head for the elevator, bracing myself against the wall as the car hums down to the eighth floor. I barely let the elevator stop before I’m out, stalking down the hall like a man on a damn mission. The pizza box is hot in my hand, and I can smell the cheese and pepperoni wafting through the cardboard. It’s not my usual style, showing up at a woman’s door with takeout like some overeager college kid, but—I don’t give a shit. I want her, and I’ll do whatever it takes to convince her to give me the time of day. I want to see her face when she realizes I listened, when she sees that I remember every word she says.
I knock on Alice’s door, telling myself to get a fucking grip.
The door swings open, and my brain shorts out. Yoga pants. Sweatshirt. Bare feet. Hair up in a messy bun that begs to be taken down. She’s so fucking adorable I almost drop the pizza. Her face is scrubbed clean, eyes wide and blue, and I almost lose my shit. I swear, I’m seconds away from dropping to my knees and worshipping her right here in the hallway. Fuck. I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my life.
She blinks up at me, cheeks flushed, and gives me a smile that rocks me right down to the bone.
“Hey,” she breathes, almost like she can’t believe I actually showed.
I grip the pizza box tighter to keep from grabbing her and hauling her soft little body against my chest. “Hope you’re hungry, coffee girl,” I rumble, stepping right inside her space and making damn sure she knows I’m not going anywhere.
She snorts and rolls those big blue eyes at me. “I’m starving.”
She steps back, and I follow her into her apartment, pizza in hand, heart racing like a teenager’s. For the first time in my life, I have no idea what hoops I’m about to jump through.
And I fucking love it.
Alice’s apartment smells like fresh laundry and vanilla candles. It’s maybe six hundred square feet—half the size of my master bedroom alone—but it feels more put-together than any place I’ve ever lived. The sofa is navy, the rug is this geometric print that looks like something out of a hipster design magazine, and every surface is perfectly clean except the coffee table, which is covered in stacks of brightly colored sticky notes and a battered spiral notebook.
She closes the door behind me, hair bouncing as she does, and I realize I’ve already lost my goddamn heart.
"Do you mind eating on the sofa?" she asks, already opening a kitchen cabinet and pulling out plates.
"Not at all," I say, which sounds uncomfortably like 'I will do anything you say,' but, at this point, it’s the truth.
I follow her to the couch, pizza box in hand, feeling completely at home. She drops onto the sofa, pulls her feet under her, and snags a slice. Cheese stretches out in a glistening string from her mouth, and she just grins around it, eyes closing in bliss. "Oh my God," she says, still chewing. "This is so good."
I take a slice, more cautiously, and watch as she absolutely demolishes hers in about four bites. Fuck. I love watching her eat. She groans, licking cheese from her lip, and I’m one hard breath away from tossing the pizza and devouring her instead. Goddamn, I’m so obsessed with this girl it’s not even funny.
I force myself to take a slow bite, but all I can focus on is Alice, curled up next to me on the couch, looking like every filthy daydream I’ve ever had and a few I’m going to invent just for her. She goes back for seconds, dropping a perfect triangle of pizza onto her plate and leveling me with a look.
“What?” she shoots, like I’ve accused her of robbing a bank.
“I love watching you eat.” I can’t help grinning.
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile lurking at the corner of her mouth. “That’s because you’re a weirdo.”