Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Knight smirks, knowing damn well what I’m referring to. “You’re trouble, Harper,” he rumbles, stepping into me and clutching my waist, holding me there. “But when I take you next, it won’t be some cheap remake of cheesy porn, it’ll be hard and fast with you sitting on my fucking face.”
My whole pussy clenches, and he smirks as if knowing damn well what just happened below the belt. “I have to run,” he continues. “Try not to get yourself stuck in the refrigeration unit, because it might not be me coming to get you.”
“Yes-sir, bossy, sir,” I tell him. “I suppose I’ll see you at Mom’s ridiculous dinner—assuming you’re going, of course.”
“I might be able to make time to watch you go for round two with your mother,” he says before stepping away. A small smile pulls at my lips, still wondering what the hell this is growing between us. “And Harper?” he says, pausing near the door.
I glance up, trying to hide the smile that’s threatening to rip across my face. “Don’t be a stranger. If something happens, big or little, you call me. I’ll be there.”
I nod, and as my cheeks flush, Knight slips out of the morgue, leaving me to sterilize the room from top to bottom and get back to work, but first, I need to deal with the mess he left behind; the very thrilling mess that’s dripping down my thighs.
23
KNIGHT
The soft hues of the pinkish sky linger above as I make my way up the driveway toward Elias’ front door, and while this is the last place I want to be, the idea of seeing Harper again keeps me moving.
It’s Friday evening, and the last time I saw or even spoke to her was on Monday. And when she potentially has a serial killer stalker following her every move, one who also likes to get her off, it’s nerve-racking. I was starting to wonder if she’d become another one of his victims lying in the morgue or if she wasn’t calling because he already had her busy on her back.
There I go with the jealous bullshit again.
It doesn’t sit well with me. I’ve never been the jealous type, and yet with Harper, I can’t seem to help myself. Every thought of another man touching what I’ve touched has driven me wild with rage. But that’s my problem, not hers. She told me from the start that she’s not down with being exclusive, and while I was more than happy to agree at the time, I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m wanting something more.
I can only imagine how that conversation will go down.
Striding up to the door, I find the very reason for my raging jealousy pacing back and forth, not even bothering to knock on the door.
“Thought you weren’t going to be a stranger,” I say, watching as she jumps right out of her skin. She didn’t bother dressing up like she did for the last dinner party. She just kept it all Harper tonight with black jeans, and a sexy crop top, all pulled together with a leather jacket. Her long black hair is thrown up into a messy bun with bits falling out to frame her petite face, and I can’t help but stare.
“Holy fucking shit, Knight,” she gasps, doubling over and bracing her hands on her knees, desperately trying to calm herself. “You scared the crap out of me. You should know better than to sneak up on a woman who’s currently dealing with a killer stalker.”
I arch my brow and step straight into her, locking my arm around her waist and pulling her in hard against my chest, knocking the breath right out of her lungs. “Where the hell have you been, doll? My bed’s getting cold without you.”
Her bright green eyes widen, and she shoves out of my arms before frantically looking around, making sure nobody overhead me, but we’re the only ones out here. “Jesus Christ, Knight. Are you trying to get my ass handed to me? If my mother knew that we were . . . that we . . . you know, she’d have me committed to a psych ward and start throwing holy water at me from the door.”
“Your mom has more to worry about than who her grown daughter is fucking,” I tell her. “But I’m sorry. I will strive to be more . . . discreet. And I suppose I’m also sorry for scaring you earlier. That wasn’t my intention, but you’re the one hovering outside the door of a home that’s expecting guests. So that one is on you.”
She rolls her eyes, and I narrow mine. “Why are you so jumpy? Has something else happened?”
She shakes her head. “No, actually. Nothing. It’s been a normal week, and every time I manage to make it through my shift without a body or someone watching me, I get more paranoid that it’s about to happen. I’ve barely slept all week.”