Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 188108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 941(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 188108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 941(@200wpm)___ 752(@250wpm)___ 627(@300wpm)
“You like what you see,” he said arrogantly. “You’re just too British to admit it.”
Salem sighed. “You’ve met my family and you can still say that? And I’m not fully British.” His father had been born here in the UK, but his mum immigrated here as a baby with her family from Kuwait.
“Doesn’t matter. You’ve lived here long enough and you’ve got the accent. I feel sorry for you.”
“You feel sorry for me?” Salem asked.
“Hmm, you’re sexually repressed.”
“I am not sexually repressed,” he countered.
“Sure you are. Otherwise, why would you have a problem with my dick?”
“I don’t have a problem with your dick,” Salem managed to get out. Although he might have cracked a tooth with how hard he was clenching his jaw.
“Good to know.” Alexei walked down the last of the stairs and headed his way.
Stand your ground.
He’s just trying to prick your temper.
With his . . . prick.
Do not look down at that bastard.
He didn’t need another look.
The image was burned on the back of his eyelids.
When he closed his eyes tonight, that was all he was going to see.
Lucky, lucky him.
“Unless it’s another part of me that you have a problem with?” Alexei asked, stopping a few feet away.
Thank God.
If that thing got hard . . . fuck, with how long it was, it would probably reach him.
You need to stop thinking about his dick.
Salem ran a hand tiredly over his face.
Think of something else. Anything else.
“I do not have a problem with your body.”
“That’s good. Since that would hurt my feelings.”
“You don’t have feelings,” Salem said.
Alexei grinned. “Ahh, but Riordan doesn’t know that. And when I go into our Monday morning meeting and tell him how awkward it makes me feel when you stare at my naked body and make mean comments . . . well, I don’t think he can ignore that.”
“You. Are. The. Worst.”
Salem knew it was a joke. And in all likelihood, Riordan Orr wouldn’t give a shit about what they did as long as it didn’t impact him or their job performance.
Of course, if Salem cut Alexei’s dick off then that might impact his job performance.
“Are you thinking about chopping my dick off? You are, aren’t you?” Alexei asked.
“I choose not to think about your dick at all,” he replied. “And I am not sexually repressed. I’m a freaking Dominant. How can I be sexually repressed?”
“When’s the last time you went to the club?” Alexei asked.
Salem opened his mouth, then closed it.
Fuck it.
When was the last time he’d been to the club? He couldn’t remember.
Shit.
“See? Repressed. Maybe that’s the wrong word. Frustrated? Hmm, perhaps you’re sexually frustrated. Sorry, my English isn’t the best at times.”
“Don’t pull that bullshit with me,” he grumbled. “You speak perfect English. Better than I do.”
“Thank you. It’s good to be acknowledged in areas where I excel and you don’t. Of course that is pretty much every area.”
You cannot punch him in the dick.
That would involve touching his dick.
You would have to touch his dick in order to cut it off as well.
Stop thinking about his damn dick!
“Can you please go and put some clothes on.” There, that sounded nice and polite, didn’t it?
Even if it wasn’t actually a request and was said in a low, commanding voice.
“Nope.”
He swore that this man was sent to test him.
Chill.
You are in control of your emotions.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have any.”
Salem ran his hand down his face. Again.
Deep breaths. Again.
“. . . hasn’t done the laundry.”
“What?” he asked. “Evette hasn’t done the laundry? That’s not like her.”
“She’s on holiday.” Alexei gave him a strange look. “It’s written on the calendar. The one you insisted on using to keep us all on track. And it’s in your handwriting.”
“But her holiday isn’t until March.”
“Dude. It is March. What is wrong with you? Haven’t you noticed that she hasn’t been here? Ahh, no, you wouldn’t have since you’re never here.”
“Are you missing me?” Salem asked as he moved past the other man.
Who didn’t even move.
Bastard.
Walking into the kitchen, Salem stood in front of the calendar.
Shit.
Evette was on holiday. She’d left four days ago on a four-week break.
Fuck.
He’d sent a request to an agency but then forgotten to follow through.
You’re forgetting a lot at the moment.
“See, if you were around more, you’d know that Evette is away. Which means there is no food in the fridge. No one is making sure Roman eats. Or that he has clean clothes. Or that I have clean clothes.”
“You know how to use a washing machine!” Salem told him.
“Do I?”
Salem turned to glare at him. “You should!”
“You’re right. I do know. There is very little I don’t know how to do.”
“Then why aren’t you washing them?” Salem asked as he stepped further into the kitchen. There were a few dishes in the sink, which wasn’t too bad. Opening the fridge, he saw leftover pizza, some grapes, olives, and a block of rather dubious-looking cheese.