Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
"Is that so? And how were you going to prevent it?"
"I have my ways."
"Care to elaborate?"
"No." I kiss her again, deep and thorough, feeling her melt against me. When I pull back, she looks dazed. "But, just trust me, he wouldn't have gotten anywhere near you."
Ten years ago, when Dex and I founded Farrell Security Solutions, I promised myself I'd never let emotions interfere with a job. It was a clean business plan. I'd handle the operations, train the operatives, make the deals. Dex would manage the client relationships. I wouldn't do personal protection assignments after the first couple of years.
All that went out the window the moment I saw Meredith's photo.
"You know," she says, tracing a finger along my throat, "we're still in the hallway."
I glance around, suddenly remembering we're standing outside her apartment door. "So we are."
Without warning, I bend and scoop her into my arms. She lets out a small squeak of surprise, her arms automatically fold around my neck.
"Cole! What are you doing?"
"Carrying you inside."
"I can walk!"
"I'm aware."
"I'm heavy."
I give her a look that I hope conveys exactly how ridiculous that statement is. "I lift weights, darling. I’m strong."
She bites her lip and looks away. I know where her mind is because I saw how she reacted when her vicious aunt laughingly asked if Meredith had stayed too long by the dessert station again. Or when cockroach-faced Trevor told her to lay off the cupcakes and not make it hard for her father to find her a match. There were even Meredith's so-called friends who made fun of her curves, curves I am dying to explore with my mouth, my hands, and my body.
"I've carried wounded soldiers in full gear through active combat zones," I shift her slightly to reach for her door. "I deadlift twice my body weight for fun. You weigh nothing to me."
Her eyes search mine for a moment before she relaxes in my arms and nuzzles against my neck. "Well, when you put it that way."
I punch in her security code one-handed—a skill I perfected over years of field work—and push the door open. As we cross the threshold, she leans up to press a kiss to the underside of my jaw.
I kick the door closed behind us, sealing us into her apartment.
"Not that I'm complaining," she says, "but are you going to put me down anytime soon?"
"Not planning on it, no."
Her laugh vibrates against my chest as we enter our own world, where nothing exists but this moment, this feeling, the weight of her in my arms, and the promise of what comes next.
Because I'm a man of my word. And I’m not a sharer.
No one else will have her but me.
3
MEREDITH
The Next Day
The air inside Cole's Audi feels electric. Every breath I take is full of him—his cologne, his warmth, the lingering memory of his mouth on mine. We haven't spoken about yesterday. About how his lips claimed mine. About how his hands cupped my face like I was something he couldn't believe he was allowed to touch.
"Penny for your thoughts," Cole says, threading his fingers through mine across the center console.
"I feel like everyone's waiting for me to make a major mistake, just waiting to say, 'Ha. I knew this girl couldn't do it. What was Robert thinking?' And honestly, I can't even blame them because I’m thinking the same."
Cole runs his thumb across my knuckles, and that simple movement has my core clenching. Apparently not done, he lifts my hand to his mouth and brushes his lips along my fingers. In an instant, my mind spins with all sorts of wicked ideas. God, what is with me? Why am I acting like a hormonal teenager?
"You know, Robert is not just a good father, but he's also a smart businessman. The proof is in how he managed to start Ashton Collective and expand it into what it is now in only thirty years. I don't think he would leave it to you if he didn't know you could handle it."
"Is flattery now part of your job?"
"No ma'am, but it makes me look good in your eyes."
"Fine. It's working."
A smile tugs at my lips despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. I fiddle with the hem of my navy pencil skirt, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. "I got a text from Aunt Patricia this morning."
His jaw tightens imperceptibly. "What did she want?"
"She wants to meet for lunch to discuss 'the transition' and 'my future’, sheesh!" I make air quotes with my fingers. "Her words, not mine. It's at the Italian restaurant across from the office."
Cole's knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "And you agreed."
"I thought it would be easier than listening to her leave seventeen more voicemails." I shift in my seat, the leather creaking softly beneath me. "Besides, after yesterday's reading of the will, I need to start dealing with reality."