Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Some of the tension bleeds out of me at his soothing reassurance, and I let out a slow, shuddering breath.
He brushes a tender kiss against my temple. "There's my girl," he praises softly, making me shiver. "I've got you, Heidi. Always."
We lay like that for a few moments before I start to squirm restlessly. He's still rock-hard inside me, and it’s more than a little bit distracting.
"Um..." I whisper hesitantly. "You're still...you know...inside me..."
"I know." His lips curve against my ear. "And that's where I'm staying. We're sleeping just like this, angel. You're so warm and tight around me, and we can't have my cum leaking out of this sweet pussy, now can we?"
I clench involuntarily at his words, a needy whimper escaping my throat. "Alessandro!"
"Told you, once I got my hands on you, I wasn't taking them off," he reminds me, rocking his hips gently, pushing even deeper into me. "I meant that shit. And don't think I didn't feel how much you liked hearing it. I can read this sexy little body like a book, Sunshine. You can't hide what you need from me."
I huff indignantly, but any protest dies on my lips when he slides a palm down to squeeze my ass.
"Now, stop wiggling and go to sleep," he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. "My cock's not going anywhere until morning."
Grumbling under my breath, I snuggle into his embrace, letting my eyes drift shut. I might also elbow him, but he just chuckles, not bothering to reply.
The last thing I feel before I fall asleep is the gentle brush of his lips on my forehead.
"Dream of me," he whispers...as if there’s any doubt of that happening.
This man is absolutely crazy. But God help me, I'm starting to love it. Way, way too much.
Chapter Six
Alessandro
“We have a problem,” I growl, marching into Dillon Armstrong’s office bright and early the next morning, Rivin padding along at my heels.
Dillon glances up from his desk as I barge in, a coffee mug halfway to his lips, his dark eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his cowboy hat.
“Heidi is…” I pause, glancing around at the cramped space around his desk. The damn desk barely fits in the tiny office. What the actual fuck? "Why the fuck are you in the janitor's closet?"
Dillon eyes me levelly, leaning back in his chair. "Why the fuck does everyone who comes in here insist on asking me that?"
Rivin huffs out a breath and plops down beside Dillon, nudging his arm. Dillon immediately scratches his ears, earning a dopey grin from the dog.
I throw an arm out, indicating the tiny space cluttered with paperwork, filing cabinets…and cleaning supplies. "There are mops in the corner, man. What do you expect people to say? Nice digs? You’re the fucking sheriff. Why are you in the tiniest office in this motherfucker?”
“So people like you can’t find me at seven in the goddamn morning, Banger,” Dillon sighs. "It's too fucking early for you to be pissing me off already.”
“Oh, so you’re cranky cranky today,” I say, smirking at him. Dillon is a hell of a good cop, but he’s a cranky asshole sometimes. Mostly because the entire town takes great pleasure in stressing him the fuck out as often as possible. It’s peak entertainment, honestly. His right eye twitches, and he threatens to shoot us. Good times.
He narrows his dark eyes on me. “What do you want?" He holds up a finger in warning. "And don't even think about telling me this is some bullshit to do with Heidi Marsh, or I may shoot you."
My smirk slips at the reminder of why I’m here. "Too bad. This is some bullshit to do with Heidi Marsh."
“I fucking knew it,” Dillon groans dramatically, plunking his coffee cup back down on his desk hard enough to slosh liquid over the side. He reaches into the drawer and pulls out a tarnished silver flask.
I watch in amusement as he unscrews the cap and tips a tiny amount of amber liquid into the steaming coffee. He replaces the flask, takes a fortifying sip, and sighs.
"Are you seriously drinking at seven in the morning?"
"Are you seriously here about Heidi Marsh?" he retorts, scowling.
"Yes," I reply simply. Because where Heidi's concerned, I'm goddamn serious. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect her.
"Then yes, I'm drinking at seven in the morning. One way or another, the Marsh girls always give me a goddamn migraine. Half the fucking paperwork I do around here has their names on it," he grumbles, but there's an undercurrent of affection beneath the irritation.
I laugh. "They can't be that bad. They're itty-bitty, Dillon."
He shoots me a death glare, holding up a finger. "Adalynn was kidnapped by a stalker who wanted to kill her.” He lifts another finger. “Leia got mixed up with a bookie who tried to kill her.” Another finger pops up. “I’m pretty fucking certain Bronx has kicked half the billionaires in this town out of the sex club for looking at his wife wrong, which isn’t my goddamn business, but it stresses me the fuck out anyway. And Charlie causes me a new goddamn migraine every week. Do you know how many accidents she's gotten into in the last six months alone?” He holds up his other hand, lifting all five fingers. “Five, Alessandro. Five goddamn accidents."