Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“I mean, his biological father is a serial killer. I’d suspect that would feck anyone up.”
“Fair point. However, this is about a stalker, and it doesn’t seem to bother you.” He raises an eyebrow.
“But he’s such a golden retriever stalker.” I laugh and snuggle against him. “I’m fine with it. Honest.”
“Okay, here we go.”
“Wait.” I press my hand to his chest and smile at him. “You’re really blowing off work so you can read with me all day?”
“I worked this morning.” He sounds only a little defensive. “My chores are done, and now I get to spend time with my girl. It’s one of the perks of being the boss.”
“Hmm.” I lean against him once more. “I do like that perk.”
“Good.” He kisses my head, breathes me in, then starts to read, his deep voice filling the air, telling me a story. I do love listening to his accent while snuggled up against his hard body, being here in our home together.
Riley’s snoring in the corner.
And now that The Arsehole is gone, and the investigation is over, I don’t have to be afraid anymore. I can live this beautiful life with the man who makes me feel whole, with no regrets or hesitation.
This life of mine is perfect.
Epilogue
CONNOR GALLAGHER
I’m a goddamn glutton for punishment.
My private jet just landed at the airport after flying for ten hours from Brussels. It was a disappointing trip, and I’m fecking exhausted. I should go home and go to bed. Instead, I’m standing outside Billie’s Books because I can’t seem to stay away from the pretty wee owner of this shop despite the fact that she can’t stand to have me around.
She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want a repeat of our one and only true sexual encounter all those months ago. I’ve stolen kisses here and there, but she always stops things before I can take them too far.
And because she’s in control when it comes to sex, I always back off. I will always back off. I’m not in the habit of forcing myself on women who don’t want me.
Jesus, I’ve never had a problem finding a willing woman to warm my bed at night. But since I had her, I don’t want anyone else. There hasn’t been nor will there be anyone but mo rúnsearc.
I want Billie.
I think of her constantly.
I know every inch of her lush, gorgeous body.
And when she snaps at me, my cock twitches.
I drag my hand down my face. No one in my personal or professional life would dare speak to me the way Billie Blackwell does, yet here I am, bloody eager to get just a glimpse of her before I go to my cold, lonely house for the night.
Pushing through the door of the bookshop, I pause when I see the group of women sitting in the center of the space. Some are in chairs, others are on the floor, and it occurs to me that it must be their book club night.
In fact, there’s my sister, Skyla, confirming my suspicions.
Feck me.
I turn to leave before anyone notices me, but then I hear her voice and it has me stopping in my tracks. My hands fist at my sides. Even her raspy, gorgeous voice turns me on.
“Okay, ladies,” Bee says. Her back is to me, but I’d recognize that glossy brunette hair anywhere. “I need some book recommendations.”
“What are you looking for?” Skyla asks her.
“I want a billionaire”—I take a step in her direction. Billionaire. That’s me—“one-night stand”—Check, did that—“dirty talker”—there’s nothing I love more than muttering filth in her beautiful little ear—“a smidge morally gray”—she doesn’t need to know about that side of me—“but absolutely no accents because that might make me spontaneously combust.”
“Why this specifically?” a blonde woman asks just as Skyla spots me, and her eyes widen.
I shake my head at her.
“Because I’m not getting it in real life, so I might as well read about it.”
“You could have it in real life, but you’re too bloody stubborn.”
I hear a few gasps, and Skyla grins, but I only have eyes for my bumblebee as she turns in her seat and scowls up at me.
“This is a private party.”
“And it’s over,” I reply as I reach down and take her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Come with me. Skyla, lock up on your way out.”
“Hey, you can’t just walk in here and—”
“I just did.” She’s jogging behind me, trying to keep up with my long strides, and I should slow down for her, but I don’t.
Because the mere thought of her getting off on the fictional version of me is absolutely fecking not going to fly with me.
I pull her through the door of what I thought might be her office, but it turns out to be a supply closet.
Close enough.
“Connor, you can’t—”