Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Well,” I hesitated. “Can you reach it? Or do you want me to look at that, too, and clean it up?”
There was a moment of silence and then he started to unbutton his pants.
I moaned. Literally, I moaned.
He froze at the sound, and to cover up my embarrassment, I licked my lips and turned my head.
“What’s your stray cat’s name?” I asked him curiously, flicking a glance at the cat that hadn’t moved from his earlier position.
“I call him Tater.” He sounded strange. Which was okay, because I probably sounded just as strange.
“Tater,” I mused. “That’s an interesting name. Why Tater?”
There was a moment of silence, and then his pants sagged as he slowly unzipped his zipper.
I closed my eyes, squeezing them so tightly that my brain hurt.
“The first time he came in, I was in the shower.” His voice was a low rumble that was like a soothing balm to a tortured soul. “When I came out, he was eating my leftover baked potato that I hadn’t wanted to finish. When I tried to take it from him and shoo him out of my place, he barked at me.”
“He barked at you?” I asked, my eyes flashing open.
He was slowly lowering his pants, and he was leaned over the counter, one massive hand planted on the Formica countertop in front of him.
The way he was positioned, it looked like he had his cock in one hand. Added in the way his muscles were rippling, and yeah… what the hell was wrong with me?
Things were tingling inside of me that hadn’t tingled for anyone else, ever.
Every time Trick Wheat came around, my body decided to take on a life of its own.
What the absolute hell was wrong with me?
“Yeah.” Trick’s voice was a sweet rasp that had my heart hammering. “It was the weirdest sound I’d ever heard. And so, I let him finish up his dinner. The next time he came into my place, I had cat food. But he’s only interested in my leftovers. He turns his nose up at cat food.”
My lips were twitching despite the severity of the situation at hand.
You know, the ‘I’m about to burst into flames’ situation.
My nipples were tingling, my heart was hammering, and no amount of squeezing my thighs together was helping.
“You gonna start cleaning those scrapes, or do you want me to pull my pants back up?” he asked.
I studied the globes of his ass one more time before moving to the scrape.
“It’s not that bad,” I admitted as I took the alcohol-soaked paper towel and pressed it to his skin.
His ass was tight.
And when I say tight, I mean, I could bounce a quarter off of it tight. Or hell, I could maybe bounce myself off of it.
While naked.
Maybe our bodies would slip and things would end up inside of me…
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about your father and your mother,” he apologized.
I felt my heart constrict.
Two years after he’d gone to jail for good, my parents had been in a car accident. Only, I knew it wasn’t a car accident. It was a murder made to look like a car accident.
Nothing could’ve cooled me off faster.
“They were murdered,” I said softly.
He stiffened, and I thought maybe the alcohol on his ass burned him. That I was hurting him.
“Are you okay?” I asked, feeling his muscles tighten.
CHAPTER 14
My thoughts and prayers go out to anyone trying on bathing suits.
-Text from Swayze to Trick
TRICK
It was the feel of her hand on my bare skin that was killing me.
That, and the way I could feel sexual vibes rolling off of her one second, and absolutely nothing the next.
“Are you sure?” I asked carefully, wanting to turn around but at the same time, wanting to stay exactly where I was so that she would talk.
“Positive,” she replied softly, the alcohol once again going to work on my backside. “They gave it some time, though. Let the heat die down on them. They waited until there would be no more fingers pointed at them, and then they tampered with their car. They left out on a road trip to Nantucket, got about a quarter of the way there when their brakes went out.”
I hated to say it but, “Brakes go out, honey.”
“My stepdad was meticulous about taking care of his cars,” she admitted. “Every time they went somewhere farther than an hour, Errick took the car in to get inspected. To get everything fixed up. I know for a fact that they checked the brakes that time, too, because Errick came home bitching about how much it costs to get your brakes checked.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Did you bring your theories to the police?” I asked carefully.
“Yes,” she answered, “but, as you can tell, nothing came of those theories,” she grumbled.