Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
The shower is in the corner, and its back wall looks like brown exposed bricks, while the black showerhead hangs in the middle. The side walls are a deep gray with matching black knobs, probably jets to his shower. It’s big enough to fit at least five people, not that I think he’s ever had five people in there. Or at least I’m hoping he’s never had five people in there. Right in front of the glass shower door is a tub, but it looks like it’s pewter in a rose gold and a silver. My feet walk to it and see it’s deep and can fit two people. I smile because I wonder if he’s ever sat in this tub. If it were me, I would sink into this tub every night.
I look back at the brown counter that has two sinks, one side clearly his with his shaving cream and razor, along with his black toothbrush that looks like it’s in a little bowl not to make a mess. The white plush towels are folded and rolled up under the sink. I walk over and grab a small towel as I wash my face and then use the bathroom.
I take a deep inhale of breath as I walk out of the bathroom and then head toward the bedroom door, holding the handle in one hand. “You can do this,” I encourage myself. “So what, you had three orgasms in the span of five minutes with him and then fell asleep in his bed.” I pull open the door before I turn around and try to sneak out of his bedroom.
I tippy-toe down the hall, not sure if Lucy is up yet. As soon as I get close enough, I can hear the sound of soft talking. “Do you want more pancakes?” Emmett asks Lucy.
“No, thank you,” she answers in just a soft voice.
“Morning,” I greet, walking into the kitchen and seeing both their eyes turning to me. I avoid even looking at Emmett, not sure I’m ready to see what is there. I’m mortified enough that I slept so long he had time to make his daughter breakfast before I got my ass out of his bed. I stop myself from burying my face in my hands.
“You’re up,” Lucy says as if me walking out of her father’s bedroom is normal. “We made pancakes.”
“I can see.” I walk over to the counter, still not looking at Emmett. “They smell delicious.”
“Mine had chocolate chips in them,” she proceeds to tell me as she picks up her last piece and makes sure to tip the plate, getting the rest of the syrup.
“Do you want coffee?” Emmett finally speaks, and I turn to him, shaking my head. His eyes turn as soon as mine stare into his. Great, my head screams. “I’m going to get going.” I point over my shoulder. “Get out of your hair.”
“Already?” Lucy asks.
“I have lots of things to get caught up on for school.” I try to avoid how my stomach feels like it’s going to sink to my feet. I also avoid the burning that follows it and the need to yack. “Thank you for letting me sleep in.” I walk over to my bag on the couch. “It’s been a while since I’ve slept so good.” I finally look back at him and see him picking up his coffee cup, holding on to it so tight that his knuckles are white. “I’ll see myself out.” I start to turn and then stop. “Shit, my truck.”
“Outside,” Emmett says, “went to get it this morning. Keys are still in your truck.”
I smile at him. “Thanks.” I hold up my hand. “I guess I’ll see you around.” I rush out of the house. “Or never again would be good.”
Only when I’m in the safety of my truck and driving away from his house do I let go of the big breath I was holding. “Smooth.” I nod to my reflection in the rearview mirror before finally covering my face with my hands. I don’t have much time before someone honks their horn at me, and I have to drive ahead.
I’m driving to my apartment, trying to convince myself that packing up my things and moving is not an option just because of what happened last night. I also try not to make myself feel even worse because he didn’t even look at me this morning. I’m parking my truck when I look up and see a hooded figure walking down the steps from where my apartment is. He is wearing black jeans, a black sweater with a hood pulled over his head, and black boots. His hands are tucked into the pockets of the sweater, head down as they rush away from the stairs. The hair on the back of my neck goes up as I see him rushing to the back of the building and out of my view. Getting out of my truck, I make my way up the steps I just saw the man walking down. I look over my shoulder while I walk up the stairs, wondering if he will come back. I’m so focused on what is behind me that I don’t see one of my neighbors coming down the steps until I crash into him. I scream as my phone and keys fall to the ground.