Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 138315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 692(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 692(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
But now he was there, and Brett was there, and to explain why Brett was there, I’d have to explain said situation.
However, as what was becoming usual with Axl, that “uh” was all I got out before he lifted a hand, palm out my way.
“No. I gotta start. Because I fucked up. I was a dick. Totally uncool.”
What he said made me completely forget I had anything to say.
He dropped his hand and kept talking.
“I was pissed, and I’ve been frustrated for a while you won’t let me get to you and that came out. No excuses. I should have locked it down, sorted through it before I came to you. But I didn’t. And I apologize. Seriously, Hattie. What I did was fucked and I wished I didn’t do it. But I did. And there’s nothin’ left but for me to say I’m sorry.”
Ohmigod.
That was so nice!
“I—”
I again got no more out.
“You’re beautiful.”
I blinked and my belly felt funny.
Um …
I was?
I mean, I knew I wasn’t hard to look at.
But … beautiful?
“And you danced that dance for me,” he continued. “It messed with my head. It was … ” He shook his head. “I’d never seen anything like that. Felt anything like it. No one had ever given me anything as gorgeous as that. It was too much. Too big. And the only person I could work that out with was you, and you cut off every avenue to you, and I needed to process what I was feeling. I couldn’t hang on to it anymore.”
“Axl—”
Yup, again, that was all he let me say.
Though, I was glad whatever I was going to say didn’t stop him from saying what he said next.
And the way he said it.
Low and tortured and thick and amazing.
“Christ, baby, I can’t get it out of my head. I go to sleep, thinking about you dancing. I wake up, and the first thing I see before I open my eyes is you looking at me after that dance. I—”
Okay.
Done.
I moved the five steps to him, put my hand to his chest and whispered, “Shut up.”
He stared down at me, unmoving.
I stared up at him, the same.
The air around us grew heavy.
And he was so gorgeous, saying such incredible things, not to mention right there, and I was touching him, I couldn’t stop my lips from saying, “Shut up, shut up.”
The words that came after that lingered in the air unsaid, but they were there.
Kiss me like you mean it.
And he heard them.
I knew he did when his arm sliced around me and my hand on his chest was forced up into his spiky hair because my body was plastered to his.
And his mouth was on mine.
He kissed me.
Axl kissed me.
And he did it like he meant it.
His other arm swept around me, and I came up on my toes, his head angling, mine tipping the other way. He held tight and I pressed deep and I tasted, and I took, and I gave, and I drank, and he plundered, and he sucked, and his tongue danced with mine and yes …
Yes.
He kissed me like he meant it.
And I kissed him back the same way.
“Okay, the very last thing I wanna be doin’ right now is interrupting this.”
Axl tore his mouth from mine and looked over my shoulder at who I knew was Brett.
And those steely-blue eyes grew stone cold.
But his arms got so tight, I was having difficulty breathing.
Please tell me this was not happening!
I looked over my shoulder and there was Brett, bare-chested and in pajama bottoms.
And there I was, in my jammies in Axl’s arms.
For the first time, in Axl Pantera’s arms.
After he kissed me.
This was happening.
CRAP!
“Before you lose it, I sleep on the couch,” Brett declared. “And we don’t got time for you to lose it anyway, because, Hattie,” Brett looked to me, “you need to see this shit.”
He then waved something he was holding in his hand that I hadn’t noticed, what with my freak-out that he’d interrupted Axl and my first kiss.
But it looked like pictures.
And a large manila envelope that vaguely, in my hazy mind, I remembered came in the mail yesterday. It had no return address. My address was handwritten. I didn’t know what it was. I figured it was marketing material, but regardless, I didn’t open my mail because I was busy getting ready to go to work.
“Why’s he sleeping on your couch, Hattie?”
At Axl’s question, slowly, I turned my head back to him.
His eyes were still cold.
“Well—” I began.
But now Brett was interrupting me.
“It’s good you’re here,” he stated, and I could tell by his voice he was getting closer—even if, on that little deck, it was hard to be too far away—but still, he was coming closer. “And it’s good you’re not fucking around with working shit out, finally. But what seemed like a low-key sitch is now officially a serious fucking sitch.”