Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Lyra pauses and glances deeper into the bag before pulling out the tiniest red, lacy thong with the matching bra and holds them up toward me. “And was this an oversight, too?”
“No,” I say, a smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth. “That was very much on purpose.”
She scoffs and tosses the flimsy material at me, only it doesn’t go far and drops to the ground between us just as my eyes widen in horror. I go to lunge for the red thong, panic surging through me, knowing what’s about to become of it, but the fucker is too fast, and before I can even get a step toward it, Smooch has scooped it up into his strong jaw and is already violently shaking the thong as though he’s torturing it for government secrets.
“Fuck,” I say with a sigh. I was looking forward to seeing that thong in action.
Lyra shrugs. “Oops.”
I watch her for a second before realizing that she’d completely orchestrated that, and I just gape at her for a minute. Fucking brat. How didn’t I see that coming?
Lyra gets back to business, searching through the bags, and when she pulls out an oversized hoodie, her eyes immediately soften with a deep longing. She holds the hoodie to her chest and after just a moment she turns and holds it out to me. “Switch.”
“Huh?”
“I want yours.”
“What’s wrong with that one?”
“Nothing.”
“But—”
“Give up the goods, Maddox Blake.”
I let out a sigh and within seconds, I’m pulling my hoodie over her head, watching it fall to her knees. She scrambles out of her jeans next, switching them out for a pair of sweats, and rolling the waistband a few times to make them sit just right.
She collapses onto the couch and Smooch immediately jumps up beside her, dropping his big head into her lap as she pulls the bag I’d gotten from the drug store onto the cushion beside her. Then as she snuggles back against the couch, she starts going through the array of makeup and toiletries I’d picked up, and judging by the way her eyes flash with silent laughter, I’ve more than fucked up. Which is confirmed only a moment later when she holds up a foundation stick and fixes me with a hard stare.
“Do you think I have the complexion of a ghost or did you select this shade based on an eenie-meenie-miny-moe system?”
“I, ummm . . . I don’t know,” I say, silently kicking myself. Hunter told me to research this shit, otherwise I was just going in blind, and honestly, he was right. He would have researched the shit out of it. He probably would have pulled up seventeen tutorials and somehow become an overnight expert. Unfortunately, while I’m very committed to the cause, I show that commitment in a different way.
Lyra just rolls her eyes and looks back at me over the couch. “You hungry? I could eat,” she asks while a yawn rips through her.
“I could eat,” I say, knowing damn well this woman is going to crash on the couch before I even get a chance to put an order in. “What do you want?”
She starts umming and ahhing, and as she contemplates, I make my way into the kitchen, scooping the new iPhone off the counter. “Here,” I say, handing it to her, watching the slow comprehension cross her face. “Figured you’d need this.”
“You . . . you bought me a new phone?”
“Of course,” I tell her. “I was responsible for yours being blown into a million little pieces. Why wouldn’t I get you a new one?”
“I just . . . This seems a bit much, don’t you think? You must have already spent a couple grand on all these clothes and makeup. I can’t accept this. Surely insurance is going to replace it all.”
“You built a dark room in your apartment. Hell, in a space that wasn’t actually part of your apartment, so no. Insurance isn’t going to do a thing. But it’s fine, Savage. I don’t want you having to worry about this stuff.”
She goes to argue and I shake my head, cutting her off. “Just accept it.”
She lets out a sigh. “Thank you. I will,” she finally says. “But for the record, I’m financially stable. Black Velvet does very well, so I don’t need you showering me with this kind of stuff. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you can. But it doesn’t change a thing.”
I turn and walk away, not giving her a chance to argue the point further. I know she’s financially stable. That’s no secret. Anybody who’s dared to breathe near Black Velvet would be able to see how wildly successful she must be. To assume otherwise would be pure ignorance.
Before I can get far, headlights sweep through my home followed by the sound of Hunter’s Challenger pulling into my driveway and I pause, my back stiffening.