Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I manage to make it back to my room unscathed and without getting caught, much to my relief. It still doesn’t calm the questions bouncing around in my head.
Why does Spencer still have a picture of us?
Why was he just looking at it?
I mean, I suppose he could have been looking at whatever else was in that box, but something tells me he wasn’t. Maybe the thing he’s hiding has nothing to do with Mom and everything to do with me.
My heart aches at the thought of him being the same Spencer I fell for years ago. The boy who cared about me and made me laugh. Somehow, that’s worse than all this hatred he has toward me.
It means I did do something, though probably not intentional, to hurt him.
Now if only I could figure out what.
Spencer
Someone’s been in my room.
Not our housekeeper who’s well versed on how I keep my things. No, someone else. Someone who left her lingering honeyed scent that permeates the air.
Why was Aubrey in here?
I open my drawer for some boxers and note that the usual perfect lines seem to have been hastily straightened. She was looking in my drawer and tried to cover her tracks. Obviously, she doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does. The fact she’s been in here is glaringly obvious. After throwing on a pair of black boxers and tidying the drawer to its usual look, I turn to inspect the rest of my room.
Nightstand drawer imperceptibly left unclosed.
Duvet slightly lifted on one corner of my bed.
Lamp askew, turned in a minor but maddening way.
Anger surges up inside of me. Knowing she was rummaging through my things has my hackles rising. I wonder if she found whatever it was she was looking for.
I make my way into my closet and pull on a pair of jeans. I’m reaching for a shirt hanging when I notice the lid of my box ajar.
There’s no way she could reach that box.
Unless she climbed.
My gaze skims over to my shoe shelves, and sure enough, several pairs have been pushed aside as though she had to make room for her foot.
Unbelievable.
I storm out of my room on one mission. Find Aubrey. And I do find the sneaky weasel in her room, putting away mountains of clothes from shopping bags.
Total fucking gold digger.
She’s manipulating Dad into giving her a place to stay and buying her all kinds of shit. Then, she has the audacity to go through my things. Who the hell does this girl think she is?
“What are you doing?” I hiss out, voice icy and sharp.
Aubrey gives a lazy shrug, back still turned to me. “Putting away clothes.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I growl. “I’m talking about your snooping in my room.”
“I have better uses of my time than to look through your serial killer bedroom,” she sasses, unperturbed by my tone.
“Everything was ransacked.”
She whirls on her feet, tossing a skirt onto the bed. Her brows furl as she studies me. I’m impressed at her ability to keep her eyes on mine instead of my naked chest.
“Ransacked? Seriously?”
“Maybe not to your sloppy standards,” I snip, waving a hand at her bed that shopping bags vomited clothes all over. “Definitely rifled through. I know it was you, so stop the bullshit. The question is why?”
This time, her eyes drop as she avoids my gaze, but that puts them on my pectoral muscles. Pink stains her cheeks and she drags her eyes up to meet mine again.
“I was looking for a pair of scissors to cut these tags off,” she lies, forcing a bitchy smile on her plump lips. “Happy?”
I grind my teeth together and shake my head, taking several long strides toward her until I’m towering over her. “You weren’t looking for scissors in my underwear drawer, leech.”
“Don’t call me that,” she spits out, lifting her chin. Fire blazes in her eyes.
“Maybe you’d prefer it if I called you Daddy’s Little Whore—”
Smack!
It takes me half a second to realize she slapped me. The sting doesn’t hurt but instead makes me want to return the swat. To her ass. My dick thickens at that thought. Annoyed at my body’s reaction, I grip her jaw, hoping to gain the upper hand in the situation.
“Hit me again,” I threaten, voice dripping in venom. “See what happens.”
Her nostrils flare and her eyes flash as she raises her hand. Before she can smack me again, I do something I’ve been thinking about for two long years.
I kiss her.
My lips crash to hers, a violent promise of a war I’ll undoubtedly win. The force of my unexpected kiss has her stumbling back a step, lips parting on a shocked gasp. I take the moment to plunge my tongue into her mouth, greedily seeking hers. A soft moan whispers up her throat as I command her mouth with mine.