Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I read it aloud to her. “I can’t tell if it’s a joke or if someone is marking us for … death or something.”
“Or if it’s Banks.”
I look at her out of the corner of my eye. “Or if it's Banks.”
It’s the most obvious answer. Occam’s razor would draw a line right to Banks’s front door. When Moss first mentioned his random penguin texts, I immediately thought Banks.
But there’s one problem that makes me unsure.
“Except,” I say, grimacing. “They are all factoids. I’m sure he could cut and paste them from somewhere online—he doesn’t have to know this shit. But, think about it. Would Banks spend his time looking up facts to send to his brothers? It just feels too … smart.”
Pippa snorts. “Be nice.”
Me: And to think I’ve called them octopussies my whole life.
As expected, there is no reply.
The elevator rings and the doors open. We step inside and press the button for our floor.
“Speaking of Banks,” Pippa says. “What are you doing with that rooster?”
“I have plans for the rooster.”
She quirks a brow. “Oh, really?”
“You see, Banks gets off on getting an immediate rise out of you. He likes instant gratification—like some other person I know.”
She grins.
“In order to really get to him, you have to drag it out a little. Stay a step ahead. He’s incredibly predictable and that’s his Achilles heel.”
“So … you knew he’d break into your house when you left?”
“Yup. Granted, I thought he’d at least wait a day—or until dark. That surprised me. But there was no way he wasn’t going to sleep on my couch while I was gone.”
The elevator buzzes and we step into the hall.
“Why doesn’t he just sleep at his house?” she asks.
“Now that, I don’t know.”
We make our way down the burgundy and gold carpeting.
“So what did you do to stay ahead of him this time?” she asks.
My chest shakes as I chuckle. I can’t wait for this fallout.
“Are you not going to tell me?” she asks.
I snicker. “I can’t risk it. Not that you would tell him,” I say. “But I don’t want to jinx it. I want to make sure it works before I say a word.”
“Ah, I guess that makes sense.” She plucks her shirt away from her body. “I can’t wait to get these clothes off. I feel dirty and claustrophobic in them.”
“No worries. I can’t wait to get those clothes off you either.”
She wraps her arm through mine, resting her hand on my forearm. Pippa is always playful and fun—but she’s not often, or ever, this calm. Peaceful, even.
I’m not sure what happened on the river, but something shifted. I know the exact moment it happened—just before she called me her man. Her entire posture changed. It was like she was giving up a battle inside of herself and chose peace.
Chose me.
I touch the pad with our key, and the lock clicks. The cool air of our room welcomes us with a chilly hello.
“Let’s order food before we get sidetracked,” I say.
She frowns. “Or we can skip food.”
“No.” I bop her Cupid’s bow as I walk by. “You need to eat.”
“Um, I’m not hungry, but thanks.”
“You’re cute.” I slide my shirt over my head and set it on the table. It’s dry from the heat, just itchy. “What do you want?”
She sighs. “I don’t care.”
I find the menu in the drawer under the phone and skim the offerings. “A burger?”
“Great.”
“Fries? Or—what the hell?” I laugh, swiping her shirt as it falls off my face and toward the floor. “What are you doing?”
I look at her and find her standing in her bikini top. Her fingers toy with the string holding it up.
“What? You’re shirtless,” she says, cockily. “Me too.”
She pulls the end of one of the bright green strings and the fabric slips down her arms.
Her skin is a perfect golden color despite the sunscreen she slathered on before we got out of the car earlier today. Her nipples are already hard. Those big, round tits hang in a perfect teardrop.
My God.
“You were saying …” She winks.
Fuck if I know. I look down at the menu in my hands. Right. Food.
I find the phone and press the speakerphone button, followed by the one labeled dining as instructed on the menu.
“Good evening. Room service. This is Taylor. How may I assist you?”
“Hello. I would like to place an order, please.”
“Are you in room 707?”
“Yes.”
I make the mistake of looking up.
Pippa’s shorts are already gone and the strings at her hips are falling to the floor. I give her a warning look but she doesn’t care. She gives me a coy smile and walks toward me, cupping her tits in her hands.
My blood heats as she reaches me. Her hands slide between my skin and the hem of my shorts. Maintaining eye contact, she slides my shorts to the floor.