Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Aiden Slate is standing with his back to me, in low-slung gray sweatpants, shirtless.
He must hear me because he pivots, lifting a brow when he sees me. But my eyes wander from his face, down his firm chest, over his well-defined abs, like some kind of oversexed voyeur. I swear drool is leaving my mouth, and I’m instantly embarrassed by myself.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he says, leaning back against the counter.
“No,” I say. “I didn’t think you’d be up.”
I narrow my eyes, finally taking in what he’s doing. A sponge is in his hand and cleaning spray is on the counter right beside him.
“Are you cleaning?”
He purses his lips. “The kitchen was dirty.”
Something tells me it wasn’t. But knowing what I know about Aiden, it wouldn’t matter if it’s sparkling. His need to clean will overpower any other thoughts in his head.
A memory flutters in my brain.
Where is he?
I thought we were supposed to meet by the lake after his practice, but he wasn’t there when I arrived.
His mom’s car isn’t here, which could mean he borrowed it, but who knows? Probably not. She never lets him have it. Instead, she makes him walk or take the bus…
He said he had something to tell me, but maybe it isn’t that important.
I take a deep breath and think about what I should do.
Before I can think better of it, I take the steps up to his door.
They creak beneath my feet and make my heart pound harder with anticipation.
I hope she’s not home.
When I reach the door, I take a deep breath and knock. When I do, it opens. It wasn’t even shut properly.
This can’t be good.
Tentatively, I step inside.
The smell of cleaning products fills my nose instantly. It’s heavy in the air, invading my senses.
I glance around, and when I see him, my mouth drops open.
There he is, and it breaks my heart to see him like this.
He looks frantic. His chest rising and falling as if he had just run a marathon, but instead, he’s cleaning the counter.
I move closer, taking him in.
With brows furrowed in concentration, he looks possessed.
From where I’m standing, I can see he’s been at this for a while, probably the whole time I was waiting for him under the tree.
Every surface gleams.
It’s like he’s trying to erase every imperfection on the fake wood.
But I know too well it’s more than that.
This is his way of controlling whatever happened to him today.
Cleaning calmed him. It helped relieve his tension. Except once the compulsion started, it was tough to get him out of that state of mind. He’d clean for hours, going mad because it wasn’t clean enough.
I won’t allow his mind to do that to him anymore tonight.
I walk over to where he is and reach for the hand that holds the sponge. My fingers wrap gently yet firmly around his wrist. “It’s clean. You can stop.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t.”
I take a deep breath, knowing it’s a losing battle for now.
“Then let me help you,” I say, diving in and getting to work. “And maybe next time, I can do it for you? We can add this to my list of responsibilities.”
He laughs darkly. “Even if you do, it won’t stop me from making sure it’s clean.”
“That’s fine. But I bet you find that it’s to your satisfaction. I’m pretty good.” I wink. “Now, what still needs to be done?”
“It’s fine,” he says, never ceasing to scrub.
“It’s not. That’s what I’m here for.” I stare into the side of his head, and he finally turns to me and nods.
“The floors. You can help with that. All the dishes are done, and I’m almost finished with the counters.” He glances around the room and sighs. “That’s all that’s left.”
“Point me in the direction of the supplies.”
His hand gestures to a door on the other end of the kitchen. It’s a pantry, which surprises me that he’d keep supplies with his food.
“Right out back,” he says. “Upper shelves, though, so let me know if you need any help reaching things.”
I open the pantry door to find it leads to his laundry room. In the corner, well organized in bins and on shelves, are all his supplies. Labeled as they would be, alphabetically.
I marvel at the stark white room, with pops of color here and there. It’s pristine. Gorgeous. Aiden. This place is amazing.
I grab the vacuum, plug it in, and get to work.
I’m lost in my own little world, bopping around to a song stuck in my head, finally getting to do my job. The reason he pays me. But it’s not long before I feel his presence behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see he’s leaning closer and shutting the vacuum off.
I twist around and when I do, his face, and his body are so close. I can practically touch his bare chest.