Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
“That’s good to know, because I don’t do one-night stands either.”
I breathed out slowly. God, why did his voice have to be so damn sexy?
“So, thank you for everything. I’m sorry you had to see me drown my sorrows in booze, but I really should go.” I started looking around for my shoes, cursing internally when I couldn’t find them.
“They’re by the front door. You kicked them off as soon as you stepped into my apartment.”
Of course I did.
I gave him a tight-lipped smile and he lifted a dark brow, the corner of his mouth kicking up even more.
My face was on fire.
“I made us some breakfast, if you’re hungry.”
I shook my head right away. “Um, thanks, but I actually have to go,” I reiterated and looked at the clock on the bedside table, clenching my teeth at the time. It was early as hell.
I had that interview today, was hungover as all get-out, but I needed to get my shit together and ace this interview if I had any hope of pulling myself out of this shit storm I was currently in.
He didn’t say anything for long moments, and when I looked back at him, his face was stoic. “You sure? It’s pancakes and bacon, even scrambled some eggs.” He held up the coffee cups. “Got more of this, if you’re interested.”
The very thought of eating turned my stomach. “You normally cook breakfast this early?”
He shrugged and propped his hip again the dresser. “No, but since I had company, I figured why the hell not?”
Oh. God.
“I—I actually have an appointment that I can’t miss and should probably get home and get my shit together.” I felt my face heat once more as he stared at me.
“Okay,” he said, his voice and expression even. He stepped to the side even more, and I started making my way past him. “Just to let you know, Michael kept texting then calling last night. You were out cold, so I answered and assured him you were fine but sleeping off the booze.”
The slow smile he gave me was no doubt in direct correlation to how hot my damn face felt. I was going to hear about this from Michael, probably for the rest of my life, and I couldn’t even tell him if the sex had been good or not, because I didn’t even fucking remember.
And then my face felt even hotter, was probably as red as a tomato.
I glanced over at him and saw that he still watched me knowingly. And as I looked him up and down, really got my fill of how good he looked, I knew, without remembering, that yeah, the sex had most definitely been good.
God, he smelled good. I tried to keep my focus on the floor as I made my way down the hallway, but I had no clue how his apartment was set up, didn’t remember even coming here last night—well, not clearly anyway—so I glanced up just as I entered the living room and kitchen area.
I remembered Pope said he was a financial advisor or something along those lines, and it was clear he got paid very well, judging by his place. Where his room had been dark woods and pristine white décor, the kitchen and living room was modern with stainless steel appliances, white marble counters, and black-as-night cupboards. His living room had the same theme, with black leather furniture, crisp white walls, and silver accents thrown in.
His place made my apartment look like a hovel.
And then there was the view. That glorious, “rich person” view that instantly made me envious. Well, even more than I already was.
I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window that stretched across one full wall, the cityscape before me incredible. I’d never seen it this high up. It was beautiful. It wasn’t like the bottom of the barrel I was used to seeing, with the congestion of the city, the shoulder-to-shoulder, packed-like-sardines population. Not to mention the pollution.
No, this view made it almost seem like some metropolis, a utopia.
And I wasn’t even counting the fact that the windows were pristine… not a smudge on them. I actually felt like I could walk right through them.
“Pretty incredible view, right?”
I was startled by Pope’s voice and spun around to face him. I’d been so engrossed in the view that I’d been distracted from the task at hand, which was getting the hell out of here.
“I meant it when I said you’re more than welcome to stay for breakfast.”
I glanced at the table and saw he already had some plates set out. A part of me wanted to stay, because although I didn’t know much about Pope, and we’d only gone out once—last night—I felt this connection with him. But that didn’t mean I could do this. Not right now at least.
“It looks and smells incredible, but I really should get going.” I ran my hands down my thighs, realizing my zipper was still down. When he turned his back to me to head into the kitchen to put the cups in the sink, I quickly zipped myself up, spotted my shoes by the door, and made my way toward them. My purse sat on a small table to my side, and once I was ready, I glanced up and saw him watching me from the kitchen.