Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
TWENTY-NINE
Zuko
I wait for her at the car door.
She doesn’t want to move, but she doesn’t have a choice.
She either sits in the car or goes into the house.
“You aren’t moving in with me.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“You should have thought about that before you set my house on fire.” I go to the back of the car and retrieve the bags, and then I return to her. “Now, come in and show me where to put my shit.”
She groans as she stands and slams the car door shut behind her. “I did not agree to this. I want that noted.”
“Noted,” I tell her as I walk up to her front door. She unlocks it and goes straight in. I stand there as she picks up a few things and then stops to stare at the floor. Fuck, I forgot to clean up her blood. “Your room?” I ask, trying to distract her from the stain on the floor.
“Nope. You can sleep on the couch.” She points to it, holding a bag in her other hand. She goes to a small cupboard and pulls out a blanket and throws it on the couch before she faces me again. “No sneaking into my bed,” she warns.
“You like it when I’m in your bed,” I remind her.
“I do not.”
“If you say so.” I drop my things and stroll into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. It’s partially empty, aside from a few things like condiments. “Do you not cook?”
“Nope. I know how to make one thing. And even that is not really cooking.” She smiles sweetly.
“What can you make?” I ask.
She comes up next to me and grabs a container from the refrigerator. Popping the lid off, she shows me what’s inside—it’s cream. A lot of cream, to be precise.
“My chocolate cake. I have a sweet tooth, and this is fast and easy.” I lift it to my nose and sniff—it smells all right. She reaches for a fork and hands it to me.
“Will it poison me?” I sniff it again.
“No, it’s amazing. It would make any grown man want to marry me for that cake alone.” She smirks.
“Marry you?” I say, surprised. “Well, I’ve never wanted to marry anyone in my life, so let’s see if this cake changes that.” I dig the fork in, then pull it back out. It’s layered with cream and chocolate. She stands there with a smile on her face as she watches me put it to my lips. As soon as it hits my tongue, I can taste multiple flavors. Obviously, chocolate, the sweetness of the cream, but something a little sour too.
Swallowing, I eye her.
“No, I will not marry you,” she says, triumph in her voice. She spins on her heel and walks away.
“What’s the sour part?” I call after her.
“There are three ingredients. If you can guess all three, I’ll let you wash me.”
Well, holy shit.
I will take that and run.
Shutting the refrigerator after I place the cake back inside, I follow her to where she went down the hall.
“Chocolate cookies,” I state the first.
“Bingo.”
“Cream.”
“Correct. You’re so close. But can you guess the last ingredient?” She grabs the hem of her shirt, holding it up, ready to pull it off. “You only get one guess.” I stand directly in front of her. Leaning down, so I’m near her ear, I whisper, “Orange juice.”
She pulls back, and her eyes narrow at me. “How did you know?”
“It’s all you have in your fridge, Trouble. It was that or eggs. And I wonder if you even know how to cook an egg.”
“I do not, thank you very much,” she says, a teasing light behind her eyes.
Spinning around, she crosses into her room. “Are you coming?” she asks. I follow her in and watch as she starts tearing her clothes from her body. When she reaches the shower, she turns it on and steps in. “It already has a waterproof bandage on it.” I nod as if she can read my mind.
When she steps under the water, I take her in. Alaska’s body is no different from a lot of women I have seen, but it’s not only her body that has me coming back, or more accurately, that I can’t stay away from—literally can’t stay away from—it’s that her hips are flared, and she’s shaped like a pin-up girl. It’s pure perfection. Her ass is round, but not from years of working out. No, it's perfection just as is.
“Do you plan to shower with me or just watch?”
“I’m happy watching.”
“Who’s going to wash my back?” She turns, giving me her back.
“You don’t want me in there,” I tell her. “You burned my house down because you don’t like me, remember?”
“No, I burned it down to teach you that you clearly have control issues, and I am not one of those things you can control.” She turns around, grabs the loofah, and starts washing her body. “I’m tired. Either come in here and help or—”