Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
We fucked in the foyer, her chest pressed against the wall.
All of my shit has slowly found its way to her place in the weeks since. Whenever I bring more, she lights up like I just bought her a diamond tiara. My clothes hang beside hers in the closet. My shit mingles with hers on the bathroom counter.
I want to fuck her every time I catch her smiling over it.
When she marries me—and she will be marrying me—I plan to deposit whatever she paid for this place into her account. She loves her home. I won't ask her to give that up. Call me old-fashioned or whatever the fuck you want, but I take care of my woman, not the other way around. Her money is her money. God knows I have plenty of my own sitting in the bank. She won't ever want for anything. Neither will our kids.
I cage her in with my arms on either side of her and lean down to kiss the frown from her face.
She melts beneath me with a soft sigh, but the furrow doesn't leave her brow.
"Tell me what's wrong," I demand, determined to get to the bottom of it here and now. If she's thinking about trying to end things between us, I need her to say it outright so I can fix whatever I did to upset her. She's not getting rid of me. I'm hers until the day I die.
"Nothing is wrong," she lies. "I was just reading a script for a Christmas movie, The Naughty List. I think I'm going to take it. It's a short production." She bites her lip. "But it starts filming in two days. It's, literally, a last-minute project for some new studio."
"This late in the year?"
"Right?" She shrugs. "Don't ask me what they're thinking. Maybe it won't air until next year? I'm not sure, but the script is fantastic, and the pay is great."
"Where is it filming?"
"Here."
I exhale, relieved she won't be dashing off across the country yet. I know it'll happen eventually. If she gets the part in the action movie she's auditioned for, she'll be filming in Canada. That's going to drive me up the wall. But I won't stand in the way of her career. Hell no. I'll swallow my own tongue before I tell her no.
"Take it, princess," I murmur, brushing my thumb across her soft bottom lip. "A Christmas movie is right up your alley." She's got me watching the damn things on the Hallmark channel every time she gets her hands on the remote. Last night, I dreamed we were stuck in one of the fucking things.
"I love Christmas movies," she whispers. I'm trying like hell to tone down my dislike of the holiday for my little star, but I don't think it's working much. My surly attitude about the holiday riles her up, which means I get to calm her back down. Which means we end up fucking. Gotta say…it's not a lot of incentive to change my Scrooge-like ways.
Any excuse to get her naked is a good excuse in my book.
I want this year to be magical for her, especially since her parents aren't here to celebrate with her. Especially since it's our first year together. I already know what I'm getting her. But like I said, I'm not good with flowery shit, and I need this woman to fall in love with me.
I know what life is like without her, and I can't go back to that. She's the best part of every day. I don't know why the fuck she chose a man like me when she's lightyears out of my league, but she chose me anyway. I'll walk through hell to keep her now that she's mine. Whatever it takes.
"Are you ready to tell me what's been bugging you?" I ask.
"Nothing is bugging me, Kaiden."
"Are you tired of me, princess?"
"What?" She gapes at me in shock. "Of course not! I could never be tired of you."
"Then what's going on?"
"Nothing." Her gaze darts to her laptop and then quickly away.
Whatever is going on has to do with her computer.
I pick her up from her seat, depositing her on the island beside her laptop. She grumbles under her breath about me being a caveman, but I ignore the comment. I am a caveman when it comes to her, and I'm not apologizing for it. She fucking loves it, and we both know she does.
I slide into her seat and flip open the lid of her laptop.
"No!" she cries, trying to slam the lid closed again.
I shoot her a quelling look and gently pry her hands off the lid.
"Please don't look," she whispers.
"Tell me why I shouldn't," I growl.
"It's going to make you mad."
"Why?"
"Because it's just stupid gossip."
My blood pressure spikes. "Who are they saying you're fucking?"