Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Wha—”
I tug and he steps back. Sadie steps away and I wrap my arm around her. While the guy might tower over Sadie, I tower over him. He has to tip his head back to meet my gaze. His bloodshot eyes widen, and he swallows. Yeah, you fucked with the wrong woman, asshole.
“It means a lot to me that you’re watching out for her. I don’t want any creepers fucking with her, being pushy and not taking no for an answer. You know what I mean?”
He bobs his head.
I slap him on the shoulder once more, this time with a hell of a lot more force. He stumbles into the wall and since he’s drunk, hits face first. A framed photo of what I assume is historic Montana rattles.
“You good, sweetheart?” I ask.
She looks up at me and nods. I take her hand and steer her out of the restaurant. Once out on the sidewalk, she turns and faces me, our hands still locked together.
“Thanks for taking care of me,” she says. “I wasn’t interested in arresting someone tonight.”
I lean down, look in her eyes to see that she really is okay. She’s not shaking or upset. She’s solid. “It’s my job to take care of you, sweetheart.”
Her face lights up as she smiles. I have to wonder if anyone ever takes care of her. It’s a fucking shame if she doesn’t know what it’s like to have a man watch out for her.
“But I haven’t taken care of you yet.” I lower my voice and kiss her. I can’t wait any longer. The closeness of the dinner, the fact that another man had been skeeving on her… I need to taste her. To know she’s mine.
Her lips are soft, sweet. She tastes like wine and Sadie. She gasps and I delve, my tongue finding hers.
I don’t let our first kiss linger, not here on the street.
“Want more?” I ask.
She nods and licks her lips.
“Good girl.” I steer her to the truck so I can get us to her place. To give us both more of what we need.
6
SADIE
* * *
I don’t know what it is about Miles that’s different from other guys I dated.
No, actually, I do.
He’s more attractive. More protective. More possessive. Sitting beside me in the booth, he angled his body toward me as if I were the only person he cared about. His size pretty much blocked out the restaurant and I felt like we were alone. As if I were the only thing he saw. His touches were tame, but they heated my skin. My shoulder, the line of my neck. The top of my thigh.
Then there was the way he dealt with that sleazeball in the back hallway. I saw the anger and darkness in his gaze directed solely at the drunk guy who cornered me. But his words weren’t harsh or mean. In fact, he thanked the guy. Of course, his tone was sarcastic and he gave him a little nudge into the wall, but he was so big and brawny in comparison that he could have beat the shit out of him if he wanted to.
I appreciated his not causing a scene or ruining our night. I’d have dwelled on it if it became a fight. Instead, he took my hand, steered me away, and kissed me.
We don’t say anything on the ride to my place. Maybe it’s on purpose, but maybe it’s because there’s some kind of heated spell cast over us. As if dinner was foreplay and the anticipation only built and made me hotter. Needier. Wetter.
When we reach my place, he takes the keys and opens the door for me. If it were any other guy, I’d think he was being a misogynistic asshole—of course I can use a set of keys!—but Miles makes me feel like he’s taking care of me.
Again.
I flip the switch to light the lamp next to my sofa.
My apartment seems smaller with him in it. I swallow at the look in his eye. The heat. I remember his hands on me the night before, but it was quick and I was worried about being discovered. Dripping on his fingers because it was daring and because he was so freaking skilled.
I want more of that. Now.
“Wearing panties, sweetheart?” He shuts the front door with his foot.
I nod.
“That’s good. I want that pussy covered when there’s a chance another man might see it.”
My mouth drops open at his possessiveness.
“Bossy much?” I arch my eyebrow.
He grunts and pushes off the door and settles himself on my sofa.
With a quick curl of his finger, he beckons me.
I follow because I want what he’s offering.
He pushes the coffee table back a few inches, allowing me room to stand in front of him. He hooks a big hand around my waist and pulls me between his spread knees.