Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
“Oh, I know.”
She studies me for a moment. Then nods. “Yeah. You’re pretty freaky too with those eyes of yours. Did you see anything when you got shocked?”
I shake my head. “No. But I think it needs to be all three of us in order to activate the augments.”
She’s about to say something, but before she can open her mouth there’s a knock at the door. I stare at it, my hand already on my Versi, ready to pull it out.
“Oh. That’s my laundry.” Clara smiles at me, then pushes her way past to answer the door. Sure enough, it’s a runner from Rodge with several packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, plus another, smaller bag, with the name of a boutique printed on the side. She thanks the runner and pulls a coin out of her pocket to tip.
Then she takes the packages and the bag, and closes the door with a kick of her foot. When she turns to me, it’s like she’s forgotten everything that just happened because her smile is wide and real. She brings all the packages over to the bed and drops them, making them tumble across the mattress. Then she starts untying the twine and unpacking her new-to-her clean clothes.
But it’s the little boutique bag that I pick up. “The Cheeky Goddess?” Despite all the weird shit that just happened, I smile. “You ordered underwear from the Cheeky Goddess?”
“Well, look. I am not against second-hand clothes, once laundered. But second-hand underwear is a hard limit for me.”
“But… the Cheeky Goddess?”
She shrugs. “So? I don’t know what that means.”
I snicker, then peek inside the bag. “Oh, I’m dead. These are amazing.”
“Shut up. What is the problem? And why are you so fascinated with my underwear?” She snatches the bag from me and looks inside. “Oh.”
I snicker again. “Fancy a fashion show? Because I’m up for it.”
“Just forget you ever saw it. I’ll return it tomorrow and get something more practical.”
“Forget…? Clara, I’m gonna be dreaming about that underwear all night. And you will not return it. You can’t just flaunt Cheeky Goddess underwear in front of a man and think you can return it. The damage is done.”
She blushes, but it comes with a smile. “I’m taking a shower.” Then she grabs a couple of things off the bed—plus the bag of underwear—and disappears behind the bathroom curtain.
I stand there, looking around the room, wondering how, in the span of three days, my life has turned into something that has throw pillows. Not to mention a bed covered in freshly laundered women’s clothes and the woman they belong to sleeps next to me at night.
It makes almost no sense. A change this dramatic shouldn’t be possible.
Yet here we are.
When I come back from throwing the trash down the chute Clara is freshly showered and putting all her clothes away in the small chest of drawers she bought. She has also moved the coffee table to a dark corner, so there’s more room now.
She looks at me when I enter. “You’re not mad, right?”
“What could I possibly have to be mad about?” I mean, she’s wearing a fucking nightgown. White. Cotton. Trimmed in satin lace. And it’s not entirely opaque when the light is shining behind her. I can actually see that fuckin’ underwear. Also, she’s not wearing a bra. She doesn’t even need to be backlit for me to figure that out.
Clara straightens up and starts to look nervous, because I’ve been staring. This is when I notice there’s steam wafting out from the kitchen area. “Was the water hot?”
“Oh, yeah. It was amazing.”
“Huh. Well, I might take advantage of that.” I take my shirt off and toss into the empty corner where I normally let the dirty clothes pile up. Except now it’s not an empty corner. It’s a wicker basket.
I just shake my head and unbuckle my battle belt as I walk into the kitchen. I drape the belt over the chair, then reach in and start the water. “Fuck. It’s freezing. Not even lukewarm.”
“No?” Clara comes over, and then, when she’s standing next to me, it turns hot as it runs over my hand. “Well, it sure is steamy.”
“You did this?”
“I did what?”
“You’re making it hot.”
“I am?” She points to herself.
“Do me a favor. It’s been years since I had a hot shower in this place. Just stay right here. I won’t take long.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You want me to stand here on the other side of the curtain, mere inches away from your naked body, while you get clean?”
“Yeah.” Then I drop my pants and walk into the shower. The water starts to go cold again, so I know she’s walked away. “Come on, Clara. Be nice to me. I brought dinner home. I saved you. I literally carried your ass up—”