Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Well, the single ones anyway. Since I knew I’d be willing to deal with all that feminine shit if it meant being with my woman, I assumed the guys with old ladies felt the same.
Something on the shiny, hardwood floor caught my eye. It was halfway under the bed skirt, like it had been accidentally kicked there and gone unnoticed.
My breath got stuck in my chest when I realized what it was.
A pair of panties.
I swallowed hard.
They were light blue and made of lace.
All the blood in my body flowed straight to my groin.
The strings at the side would easily give way with one sharp tug.
Fuck!
I bent down slowly and picked them up, running the delicate fabric between my fingers before bringing them to my face. Burying my nose in the spot that covered her pussy, I inhaled deeply. My cock turned rock hard, pressing against my zipper like it wanted to rip free.
The lingerie carried the scent of her skin, and my tongue tingled in anticipation of tasting her. I wanted to know if her flavor matched her natural fragrance.
Growling low under my breath, I stuffed the panties in my back pocket and headed for the bathroom to get my head on straight.
Only that didn’t help because one of those circular birth control packs sat on the counter. It hadn’t been there yesterday when she showed me around.
Oh, hell to the fucking no. My face twisted into a scowl as I snatched the container and popped the lid open with my thumb. All twenty-eight pills were still there. Not a single fucking one missing.
The breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding whooshed out. Good.
Because if I had it my way, she’d never take another one.
I took the whole damn thing and shoved it into my pocket with the panties. Then I slid a couple of her bottles of girly shit to the edge of the counter so it looked like some of it had been knocked over. A small trash can sat just beside the cabinet, so hopefully, she’d assume the pills had fallen into it.
I probably should have felt a little guilty at the deception, but I had no regrets. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to get what I wanted.
My cut on her back. My ring on her finger. My baby in her belly.
It wasn’t a question of if. Only when.
I was finishing up the last of the interior cameras—one above the front door and another angled across the kitchen—when my phone vibrated.
It was Deviant, so I answered on the second ring, keeping my voice low. “Find anything?”
There was a pause before he spoke, which never meant anything good.
“Ellen’s missing. Reported by her sister late last night. No signs of struggle. Phone’s off. No activity on her accounts in the past forty-eight hours.”
My chest went ice cold.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “I have to tell Gemma.”
“Yeah. And I need to talk to her. Everything she remembers about Ellen. Stuff they talked about, routines, whatever. Hopefully, she’ll have information that’ll help me piece together a timeline while you handle ground security. In the meantime, I’m digging into her life over the past week to see if I can find a digital trail to follow.”
“Thanks,” I grunted. Then I ended the call and shoved the phone back into my pocket. After gathering up everything I needed for the studio’s security, I left the house through the back door and followed the path to Gemma.
When I walked inside, her back was turned to me as she adjusted the lighting. The place looked like something out of a dream. A classy but very dirty dream.
A plush chaise, strategically placed mirrors, a table covered with props, and…shit.
My eyes landed on the fancy bed on the far wall that I’d avoided thinking about when I noticed it yesterday.
I couldn’t peel my gaze away from it today. Soft sheets were tangled up on the mattress, perfectly messy in a way that suggested they had been staged. Soft lighting bathed the bed in a hazy warmth that heated my blood.
And there she was, barefoot, her hair piled on top of her head and her clothes hugging every delicious curve. She was reaching up to fix a bulb, and her shirt lifted, exposing a smooth strip of skin above the waistband of her jeans.
My cock was instantly hard again, although it had never fully deflated, knowing her panties were in my pocket. The earlier temptations came roaring back with a vengeance, and I lowered the box in my arms to cover the enormous bulge in my leather pants.
“Fucking hell,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
Gemma turned when she heard me, a question in her eyes.
But I couldn't speak. My gaze was drawn to the bed again, as if it had a magnetic pull and my jaw clenched.
“You okay?” she asked softly.