Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
And that terrifies me to no end.
Would he want me?
Holy shit, why am I thinking these things?
“Why aren’t you married?” I blurt out, and instantly, my face floods with heat. Did I really just blurt that out? To Jett?
What. Is. Wrong. With. Me?
I’m met with silence, and eventually, I look up at him to find him watching me. He crosses his arms over his chest as we lock eyes. His face gives nothing away, and I don’t know if he’s surprised by my question or offended. Instead, he simply asks, “Why aren’t you?”
I shrug, and while I don’t want to answer him, I know I need to since I was the one to ask first. I go with the generic answer. “I’ve been busy, and I haven’t found someone I want to settle down with.”
“Been looking, though?”
His words are rough, his eyes searching mine. “When I can,” I say, and he nods.
“Same,” he says, and just like my answer, I feel his is equally as generic. But there is more. His eyes move down my body and back up, leaving a trail of heat I’ve never experienced in my life. I swallow hard and then lick my lips. He tracks the movement with his eyes, and I don’t know if he’s going to leave or push me onto my grandfather’s desk.
Is it bad I’m hoping for the latter?
He looks away, filling his chest with air before he lets it out on a long sigh. “Come on. I’ll show you the apartments.”
Jett leaves the room, and I swear I’m able to take in my first real breath. He just monopolizes the air around me. And the way he looks at me…? He has me on an edge I don’t understand. I want to fall so desperately, and that doesn’t make any sense whatsoever. What edge am I on? What am I falling for? I have no clue. But one thing is for sure, I haven’t felt like this in my whole life. While it freaks me out, it also thrills me.
I just wish I knew what it was.
My mouth is dry, and I lift my head when I hear him call my name. I rush out of the office and cross the lobby to the door he is waiting in front of. “This code is my birthday.”
I press my lips together as he pushes the door open, and we enter another lobby area. Unlike the previous space with couches and a table, this is just a room with three doors. He pushes open the first two that mirror each other, revealing a kitchen, a bar for eating at, an en suite bathroom, and a large bed in the middle of the room with a TV on the wall. When he opens the third door, I know it’s his room. Unlike the first two rooms, which are painted a light green, his is slate gray with black and white accents. It’s very monotone but very Jett. Broken sticks are lying in the corner, and he has a huge black leather couch with an even bigger TV on the wall. The bed in the corner is large to accommodate his big frame, with soft sheets that I have the urge to touch.
I move past him for a better look, and he grumbles, “It’s a bit of a mess.”
I shake my head. “This isn’t a mess. It’s lived-in.”
I don’t get far before his scent almost makes me trip over myself. He smells like I remember, leather and amber. I remember when we’d hug after a skate and I’d run my nose along his collarbone to get a sniff. Just for a hit. Like I was an addict. I’ve been without for so long that it takes everything in me not to revert to my addicted ways.
“You smell nice,” I say, once again without thinking.
I glance over my shoulder, and his eyes move to mine, longing in his brown gaze. He doesn’t smile, though, that furrow between his brows tormenting me. “Thanks.”
“Living up to that pretty boy name,” I tease, and his lips quirk.
“I don’t think it’s pretty boy anymore—more so grumpy ass.”
I bring my brows together. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Comes with age, I guess. Just don’t have time for bullshit. Got a business to run.”
I roll my lips and nod as I continue to look around. Unable to resist, I move to his bed and run my fingers along his sheets. They’re so soft, so silky, and I want to nuzzle them. Especially since I know they smell just like him.
“Still obsessed with blankets?”
I smile shyly but don’t look at him. “Yeah.”
“Still got that Goofy one?”
I feel my eyes widen, my lips spreading in a grin that takes up my whole face. “I do.” His chuckle hits me square in the gut, and needing to ignore it, I ask, “You live here alone?”