Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59954 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59954 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
The cab screeched to a stop in front of us, and I took a deep breath, willing my dick to back the fuck off. I turned and guided Imogene to the back of the cab. As I helped her in, I noticed her downturned head and the slump of her shoulders.
Shit. I knew I needed to smooth things over with her, but I had to get control of myself first.
I gave the driver my address and put the cab number into an app to pay automatically. Then I shot off a quick text to my contractor, instructing them to clear out of the house for the next few days, but continue to bill me. After putting it back in my pocket, I glanced at Imogene just as she turned watery eyes in my direction. “I’m really sorry, Thatcher. Where are you taking me? Please let me go. If I promise not to come anywhere near you from now on, can we just forget this ever happened?” she pleaded.
Forget? That wasn’t possible. There wasn’t one thing about Imogene that wasn’t burned into my mind. She shifted so she was facing me and put her unoccupied hand on my thigh. I stiffened and sucked in a deep breath. My skin burned underneath her touch, and all I wanted was to feel that heat on every inch of me.
“Don’t,” I said through clenched teeth. “I am hanging on by a thread. If you touch me, I’m going to fucking lose it.”
Chapter 4
Thatcher
Imogene’s hand flew back like she’d been burned, which was fitting since my leg felt like it had been singed where she’d touched it. Then she scooted to the far edge of the seat and curled into herself.
The cab driver was tossing suspicious glances at us, and I knew I needed to diffuse the situation quickly. Even though it was unlikely that he could hear anything we were saying, Imogene’s body language was probably sending up alarms.
I expelled a slow breath and pictured Imogene painting in our home. It was soothing and helped to ease my tension.
“Imogene,” I said softly as I reached out to draw my fingertips down her cheek. I wasn’t sure how I’d expected her to react, but I was elated when she instinctively leaned into my touch. “I’m taking you home, sugar.”
Her brows drew down, and her eyes darkened to amber as confusion floated across her face. “I don’t have a home.”
Her words caused an ache in my chest, but I reminded myself that it was all about to get better. “Yes, you do.”
Imogene shook her head in denial. “No. I mean, I did. But then my grandmother died, and they wouldn’t let me stay in her apartment in Queens”—a piece of the puzzle slid into place. Imogene Delaney must have been her grandmother—“and I don’t have a home now.”
“You do,” I insisted. “I’m going to make sure you don’t spend one more fucking night on the streets. You’re coming home with me, sugar.” And sleeping in our bed. But we’d get into that later.
Imogene gasped, gaping at me with disbelief. “I don’t even know you!”
I speared her with an intense stare. “Yes, you do. I know you feel what’s between us, Imogene. You may not have realized it, but you know me.”
Her expression turned less fierce, and there wasn’t much conviction in her tone when she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”
If I hadn’t seen her sketches of me, I might’ve had a moment of doubt. But I had, and they’d reinforced my certainty that we were meant to be together. Before she knew what was happening, I’d picked her up and put her on my lap so that she was straddling my legs. “I’ll prove it,” I growled before I cupped her face in my hands and crashed my mouth down over hers.
Imogene stiffened for a half of a second but when the tip of my tongue traced her bottom lip, she sighed and melted right into me. Her exhalation gave me the opening I needed to slide my tongue into her mouth. My body sizzled with need and excitement as I tangled my tongue with hers. My hands delved into her silky curls, and I slanted her head to deepen the angle of the kiss.
She tasted sweet, like cinnamon and sugar, and I was suddenly ravenously hungry. I was on the verge of taking it too far, especially since we were in the back of a taxi. So, I pulled back and pressed her head into my chest, my hands slipping down to rub her back gently. We were both panting, and I could feel her heart racing. “I think I made my point,” I murmured. She made an unintelligible sound, which I chose to take as an affirmative.
My hands rubbed soft circles on her back when I found the courage to voice a question I’d dreaded. I was pretty sure I knew the answer, and it wouldn’t change how I felt about her, but it might lead me to kill someone. “Are you untouched, sugar?”