Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
I’m not as shy this time walking into my room dressed only in the towel. Charlie’s fallen back into a deep sleep, judging from the sounds of his breathing. I study him, and a wave of déjà vu comes over me, as if I’ve seen him in my bed a hundred times before. As if I’ve known him forever but had just forgotten until now.
Weird.
After dressing and gobbling down some breakfast, I head to the door. My hand hesitates before touching the knob, but there’s no weird push on my thoughts to keep me from going outside. Charlie lifted the compulsion.
I grab a floppy hat and my gardening gloves. I double check that my bedroom door is closed completely and return to the door, opening it just enough to slip outside.
Outside smells so delicious. I breathe in the dawn and let the familiar peace I always feel when I’m out in nature settle around me. Even in winter, I crave the smell of the earth, the feel of the plants between my fingers.
My orange tree has dozens of fragrant blossoms, and the winter greens have grown bush-like. I pull weeds and cut some of the kale ready for harvest.
After an hour or two, my neighbor, Karen, comes outside to sit on her porch, lighting up a cigarette. We often passed time this way, having become friends since she moved in.
“What’s with the boarded up windows?” Karen asks, blowing out a column of blue grey smoke.
“Oh. Um...I just got a little nervous about security. You know, being on the ground floor and all.”
“Yeah,” Karen says. “Seems like I saw a guy hanging around your door, but now I can’t quite remember...Are you having trouble with someone? Like an ex?”
“Yeah, kind of. I guess so,” I say, trying to think up a story..
“Well, what’s the deal?”
“Um. You remember Wilson, my ex-boyfriend?” I go with Karen’s suggestion.
“Yeah.”
“Well, he’s been bugging me lately, and I just don’t want him showing up…” I trail off. This is the lamest story ever.
“Didn’t he break up with you?”
I blow hair out of my face. “Well, no. He was cheating. Or—he refused to commit. He wanted an ‘open relationship’. I wasn’t into it.” I should’ve made something else up. I don’t like talking about Wilson. He was a pathetic excuse for a boyfriend, and now, comparing him with Charlie’s powerful presence, he seems downright remedial as a human being.
“Wait, so why do you think he’s going to try to break into your house?”
Fork, I am the world’s worst liar. Good thing I’m not a spy or undercover. “He forgot his….uh, lava lamp.”
Karen stubs out her cigarette. “Riiiiight,” she drawls. She’s not buying it. “I’ll keep my eyes open and let you know if I see him around, okay?”
“He’s mad because I’m dating someone new,” I blurt.
Karen’s eyebrows flash upwards. “Ooh, really?”
“Uh huh. His name is Charlie. You might have seen him around—dark hair, dresses well.” Hot body. Long fangs. Sexy as hell. I squeeze my thighs together, feeling the phantom pressing of his bulge between my legs.
“Oh yeah? That’s awesome. Stop by and introduce him sometime, okay?” Karen says, rising.
Suuuuuure.
I work until my arms ache and my head is clear. I clean up and, on a whim, cook breakfast for dinner. It’s almost dusk
I glance at my watch. Two hours passed, and it’s almost five. I brush off the dirt and go to the door, hesitating before I open it. What if he’s already woken and is sitting in the kitchen? He’d be killed. No wonder he hypnotized me the day before, his very life’s at stake. No pun intended.
Lifting my fist, I knock on the door and press my ear to the wood to listen for movement. Good thing Karen isn’t still outside, or I would really look crazy.
“Wait.” I hear Charlie call out.
Thank God for my foresight.
“Count to ten first and then open,” he says from the other side of the door.
I follow his instructions and open the door cautiously, shutting and locking it behind me. “All clear,” I call out.
My bedroom door opens and...damn. My vampire looks sexy walking toward me in nothing but his jeans, his naked torso spectacular, hair still rumpled from sleep.
“Thanks for the breakfast, love.” He grasps my nape and stoops to kiss the top of my head as he passes by.
I stand rooted to the spot. Why does he make my heart beat so erratically? “Which did you eat?” I manage to ask after a moment.
“Both,” he grins, sitting down at the table where both plates are in front of him. He takes a bite of pancake. “And I love this whipped cream,” he says, his mouth full.
I have a skin-flick fantasy moment, imagining him smearing my body with it and licking it off. But no, with him, it would be more whips and chains.