Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Adora watches, biting her lip, and when I’m done, I slide my cock into my trousers and lift the phone to my face.
“I could fuck you so hard and good. I want you to remember that when you lie back down next to your girlfriend.” Then I hang up and walk out of the bathroom.
I find Keir standing there, his hand is outstretched, and I drop the phone into his palm.
“I’ll have to burn it now,” he says, looking down at it with disgust. “You can explain to my wife why she has to get a new phone.” Then he walks off, leaving me standing there staring after him.
“Joey.” I turn to Sailor. “What did she say?”
“She said nothing.” I smile and step past her. “You need a new phone. I got it wet.”
“I have a feeling it wasn’t water,” Chanel says from not far away, chuckling.
TWELVE
ADORA
Even though I wanted to, I didn’t stay the night at Becca’s. I ended up going back to my place after that phone call with Joey. That was weird, and hot, and weird. And I may have lied and said she was my girlfriend, though I think he knew that was the case. Even though the evidence says otherwise.
Today is my last day before I walk down the aisle to him.
I’ve spent hours upon hours trying to work out how to get out of it.
But I can’t come up with one single thing.
I can’t risk my sister’s life, even though we aren’t close. I would never risk her life for my own. She blames me for our father’s death, which she should. I did kill him, after all. And I would do it again.
Every. Single. Time.
That man deserves to be six feet under.
He was vile.
Vindictive.
A true bastard.
I’ve also avoided going to work so far today, but I have an author signing late this afternoon, and I can’t not show up.
I need to hire more staff, but the thought of someone messing up my bookstore hurts me more than I’m willing to admit. I have set it up so it’s shelved according to specific romance genres and then color-coded.
It’s literally perfect.
My safe haven.
My place to just be me.
When I turn up to unlock the doors, Joey’s leaning against the building. I ignore the flutter in my stomach as I look him over. He’s dressed nicely today, not in his usual jeans and shirt. He is wearing a blue button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up and showcasing a few tattoos, and his messy curls are slicked back. I hate to say it, but I prefer them when they’re messy.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I say, striding straight past him to the door.
“You didn’t open today.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Is that something you usually do?”
“No, I’ve never not opened,” I reply over my shoulder. “But then again, I’ve never had to marry someone I didn’t want either.”
“Your tits say otherwise.” A smirk pulls up at the corners of his mouth as I glance down to see my traitorous nipples high-beaming.
“They have a mind of their own, nothing to do with you.”
“Of course, they do. Maybe you should listen to them.” He follows me in when I push the door open and switch on the lights.
“That’s a hard no. They don’t have a brain, but you can rest assured I do.”
“Mmm,” is all I get in response. I go to the back and get the props and signs for the table, and he leans against the counter, watching me.
“What are you doing?”
“I have to set up. I have an author due in about thirty minutes to sign books. Look, people are already starting to arrive.” His head turns to where I nod outside and then he steps closer to me. I’m about to tell him to back off and fuck off, but he speaks before I can.
“What can I do?”
“You want to help?” I ask, my head rearing back, stunned.
“Yes, did I stutter?” he answers as if it’s nothing.
“No, but…” I shake my head at him and look out the door at the mounting crowd that is going to be inside shortly, then back to him. “Okay, you can help. Can you please start grabbing the chairs from the back office and bring them out?” He leans down just a little, so his breath tickles my neck.
“Joey.”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“You have something on your neck,” he says. I reach up to touch it, but his hand captures mine. “I can get it.” His fingers touch my neck, tickling almost, and I know he is lingering longer than he should.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Just fluff.” He steps around me. “But don’t worry, I got it.” Then he goes to the back room, and my arms are covered in goosebumps from the interaction.
Managing to shake his close proximity off, I get back to work. He brings out every chair and even manages to move one of the shelves for me to make more room in the tight space.