Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Just before we reach the door, movement catches my eye—a shadow ducking behind a pillar at the edge of the garage. I pause, squinting into the darkness.
"What is it?" Damien asks.
I stare for another moment, but see nothing. "Nothing, I think. Just a trick of the light."
As we walk inside, his arm around my waist, I can't shake the uneasy feeling that someone was watching us. But I push it aside, focusing instead on the warm weight of Damien's arm and the promise of what's to come.
5
DAMIEN
Two weeks since Doug destroyed that box, and I can't stop smirking every time I think about it. Who would've thought that a silicone dick would be the thing to finally break the ice between us?
Alyssa sleeps deeply beside me, one leg thrown over mine, her breathing steady and peaceful. I trace my finger along her bare shoulder, wondering how the hell I got so lucky.
For too long, I watched her from across the hall. Now she's in my bed nearly every night, and I'm learning all the little things that make her who she is.
Alyssa stirs beside me, stretching like a cat before her eyes flutter open.
"Morning," she says, voice raspy with sleep.
"Morning." I brush a curl from her face, struck again by how beautiful she is first thing in the morning. No makeup, hair a mess, pillow lines on her cheek and I've never wanted anyone more.
She rolls toward me, pressing a kiss to my chest. "What time is it?"
"Early. A little after six."
She groans dramatically. "Why are you even awake? It's Saturday."
"Some of us have actual work to do," I tease, earning a light smack on my arm.
"Excuse you, I have three custom orders to finish this weekend." She props herself up on an elbow, already looking more alert. "Including that baby blanket for the woman in California who's paying triple my usual rate for rush delivery."
I raise an eyebrow. "Triple?"
"Yep." Her smile turns smug. "People will pay a lot for handmade items, especially when they're gifts for special occasions."
I pull her closer, enjoying her warmth against me. "Still can't believe people pay that much for blankets."
"Says the man who charges $4,000 for a custom dining table."
"That's different. That's—"
"Craftsmanship? Skill developed over years? Unique design? Materials selected with care?"
I grunt in acknowledgment. "Fair point."
She kisses me quickly before sitting up. "I need coffee before I film today's tutorial."
"Tutorial?" I follow her out of bed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the floor.
"The chunky blanket I've been planning all week. Should bring in about five thousand new views, if the analytics from my last tutorial are anything to go by. People love all things cozy."
I watch her pull on my discarded t-shirt from last night. Something primal stirs in my chest seeing her in my clothes (whoever said that quote about a man's shirt on a woman is like a flag on a conquered fortress is absolutely right). In my space. How quickly she's become a fixture here, her presence transforming my apartment from just a place I live in to something that feels like a real home.
In the kitchen, I start the coffee while Alyssa feeds Doug, who dances excitedly around her feet. The little traitor now treats her like she's the one who rescued him from that parking lot three years ago.
"He loves you more than me now," I say, measuring coffee grounds.
"That's because I don't make him eat that terrible dry food." She scratches behind Doug's ears as he attacks his breakfast. "And I knitted him a sweater."
"He's a dog. He has fur."
"He gets cold! He shivers!"
"He's manipulating you." I pour water into the machine. "He shivers when he wants attention."
"Well, it works." She stands and wraps her arms around my waist from behind, resting her cheek against my back. "Works on you too."
I can't argue with that. The first time I found Doug, a tiny shivering ball of fur and attitude in the parking lot, I intended to take him to the shelter. Then he looked at me with those big eyes, trembling pathetically, and next thing I knew I was buying dog food and a bed.
We move around the kitchen with an ease that feels like we've been doing this for years instead of weeks. She pulls out mugs while I grab the cream. I reach for plates as she opens the refrigerator. No words needed, just the comfortable rhythm of two people learning to occupy the same space.
After breakfast, Alyssa heads back to her apartment to set up for filming. I spend the morning sanding down a headboard commission, but find myself drifting across the hall more than once. I tell myself it's to check on Doug, who's decided Alyssa's apartment is his second home, but really, I just like watching her work.
Whatever obsession I had before has snowballed into something deeper and more intense. I'm so screwed, and I fucking love it.