Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 100680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
His poor girl.
No. Not yours, you idiot.
Kneeling, he removed her shoes. “Need to get you out of your clothes.”
“I think you’re supposed to buy me a drink first or something,” she muttered.
He paused and stared up at her incredulously. “Did you just make a joke?”
“Rude. I know how to joke. Some people think I’m very funny.”
“Who are these people? Your mom and dad?”
She tensed, and he wasn’t sure why.
“No. Not them. You’re right. No one thinks I’m funny.”
Fuck. He really was an asshole. Now, he’d made her feel bad when he’d just been teasing.
“Rainbow? I think you’re funny.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Funny looking, I bet.” She attempted to smile, but there was this wary look oh her face, as though she was used to people making fun of her.
“Baby, no. You’re beautiful.”
She huffed out a breath. “Not even on a good day. Certainly not today. Maxim?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t feel so good.”
He got her to the bathroom just in time before she started vomiting. Then shivering.
Yeah, he was definitely getting a doctor here.
9
She felt like crap.
Complete and utter crap.
“Shoot,” she muttered as she rolled over in bed. Her head was thumping and her body felt as though she’d slid down a hill and hit every rock along the way.
Ouch. Everything was ouch.
What day was it? What time was it?
She reached for her phone on the nightstand. It looked to be evening outside. But her memories were kind of fuzzy.
An image of Maxim Malone stripping her off and putting her to bed filled her head.
Now she knew she was losing her mind. Because there was no way that would ever happen.
Thankfully, her phone was on her nightstand. And it was plugged in. She must have done that before she started having delusions about Maxim.
Then she squinted at the time . . . and the date.
Holy crap.
Monday evening. How could it be Monday evening?
She had two missed calls from her boss. Crap. Shoot.
She called him back. It went to voicemail so she left a message explaining what had happened and that she’d be back at work tomorrow.
Slumping back on the pillows, she tried to get her brain to work. She remembered feeling horrid and getting in the shower only to find there was no hot water. Fuck. Had she gone to talk to the apartment building manager?
Great. She was never getting a hot shower again.
And then . . . her next memory was of Maxim carrying her to her bedroom. There had been another man here too, she was pretty sure.
Why?
All she got was a calm voice and cool hands. Someone saying that she needed to keep hydrated and to rest.
And . . . oh fudge.
Had she vomited? Had Maxim held back her hair while she’d vomited?
No, no, no.
That hadn’t happened.
She smothered the whimper that wanted to escape and sat up. The drink bottle by her bed was empty, so she decided to refill it and get some painkillers for her head.
As she walked through the living area to get to the kitchen, she came to a stop.
A man was lying on the sofa in her living room.
Not just any man . . . Maxim Malone.
Dressed in a wrinkled white shirt and dark pants, he looked tired and delicious. How could someone still look so sexy when they were so wrinkled and exhausted?
“Maxim?” she asked before thinking better of it.
He shot up and she let out a squeal, unable to stop herself. The water bottle dropped to the floor as she turned around.
What was she thinking? She looked terrible! What if her hair was a giant mess? Or she had stains on her . . . on her T-shirt. Was she really just wearing a T-shirt? That barely covered her panties.
Oh crap.
Had he seen her panties?
Damn it. Double damn it.
She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had seen her panties. Okay, it seemed a silly thing to focus on . . . but most of the time, she tried to keep herself covered up. She wore conservative clothes and tried to make herself seem invisible.
Nothing to look at here. Glance away. Forget me.
But underneath that armor that she needed . . . well, she might show more of herself. Because all of her panties were sexy in one way or another. Satin and lace. Silky. They had either bows or cut-outs, and all of them were in bright colors.
They were only for her . . . but they made her feel happy.
They made her feel like she hadn’t lost all of herself, even when she felt like she didn’t know who she was anymore.
“Rainbow? What are you doing up?” he asked in a sleep-roughened voice. It wasn’t that late at night. How come he was so tired?
Maybe because he’s been taking care of you for over twenty-four hours?
Shoot.
“I, um, I just . . . I didn’t realize you were here!” she managed to get out. “I will, uh . . . fudge!”