Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Twice.
And that wasn’t even counting the fact that I’d almost fainted. Fainted. I would never let myself live that down. When the fuck had I ever needed anyone to save me?
Never.
I didn’t like it, didn’t fucking like it at all. Who did he think he was, stumbling down the alley like that? He could have gotten himself killed.
He also saved my ass with his crazy ninja skills.
And I really needed to stop thinking about this guy. I hadn’t been able to sleep last night, partly because I was rattled I’d had a gun pointed to my head. And he’d seen me. Saved me. I really needed to stop finding my way back to the saving part. It was exactly what I’d done all night and now all morning. I was obsessing over his little display with Carl before he’d gone ’80s Van Damme on the alley punk. Now, I was…I don’t know, really obsessing over him, which was a new one for me. I didn’t obsess about anyone.
“Fuck,” I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face. The officer had asked me to give his driver’s license back to him, and then with my head being such a mess, I’d forgotten, which meant I sort of needed to see him because that was pretty important. I owed it to him for coming to my rescue last night, after all.
And there I was back to the rescuing part. Sean was fucking with my head.
Making an attempt to ignore the ID that kept taunting me, I went into my bedroom and ran on my treadmill. As sweat trailed down my forehead and I looked out over the Hollywood Hills, I wondered if I should take a karate class…maybe tae kwon do? Then I wanted to slam my head against the treadmill for even letting myself think that.
Stop thinking about this.…I would have gotten myself out of the situation without Sean’s help. I could have handled both situations where he’d swooped in with his savior badge.
Half an hour later, I stepped off the treadmill and went straight for a shower. I jacked off because it was an orgasm, and if there was ever something that made everything else disappear, it was coming.
Then I got dressed, grabbed his stupid fucking driver’s license, and made my way to Skyhouse. There was no reason to keep putting it off. The little ninja intrigued me and once something caught my eye, there was no turning back until I figured it out.
I was determined to figure my ninja out.
He lived on the eighth floor, and as I rode the elevator, I realized I was smiling. Would he have already noticed he’d lost his license? There was a good possibility I could have some fun with that.
I fingered it in my jeans pocket and made my way down the hallway. It was only a few moments after I knocked that he opened the door, wearing jeans and shoes but no shirt. He had freckles on his shoulders and defined abs, and there was zero reason I should be noticing this shit about the ninja.
“How do you know where I live?” he asked with a frown.
“I’m psychic.” I grinned. Let him sweat this out a little.
“I don’t believe in psychics.”
“I’m right here, aren’t I?”
“That you are.” He gave me a mischievous grin, and I immediately knew he was up to something. “I guess that would have to be the only option. I briefly considered stalker but you clearly know what I’m capable of since I came to your rescue last night.”
It was my turn to frown. “I could have handled it.” And I could have. I’d dealt with much worse shit than a snot-nosed teenager having a temper tantrum before.
“Didn’t look like it from my end.” Sean cocked a brow.
Little fucker. “I was biding my time, thank you very much. He was a kid. I didn’t want to hurt him.”
“Okay.” Sean shrugged.
Okay? Okay? That was all he had to say about it? “I’m serious.”
“I said okay.”
“Yes, but you said it as if you’re trying to pacify me. You don’t really believe it. I can handle myself. I would have dealt with it.”
My pulse was speeding up and if I wasn’t so annoyed, I’d have respect for the guy. He played the game well. I just didn’t want him to try and play it with me.
“Okay,” he said again, and I wanted to ban the word from his vocabulary.
“Where’s your shirt?” Where’s your shirt? What the fuck was wrong with me?
“Why? Does my chest upset you?”
Okay, he’d caught my interest, and I didn’t fucking like it. People didn’t speak to me the way Sean did. It just didn’t happen. “You should be thanking me, you know?” I leaned against his doorjamb.
“What should I be thanking you for? I saved your ass twice last night and all I’ve gotten out of it is a stalker who thinks he’s psychic.”