Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
When I do, he casts a lazy eye down my body as he slowly opens the tie on my robe. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he coaxes, his voice husky as he rubs the pad of his thumb over my nipple.
“It’s just… I don’t know. I’m just wondering…”
But as I study his face, his full, kissable lips, parted just a tiny bit, the dark stubble on his strong jaw, the icy blue of his eyes… I’m speechless. Again, he’s rendered me speechless. But not like before. This speechlessness is from being in a perfect moment, and not wanting to ruin it.
So I lean over and let my hair fall around us so that it feels like we’re in a world all our own. “I’m just wondering how many eggs you want?”
His lips twist into a smile. Then he wraps a big hand around the back of my neck, pulling me down for a slow, sexy kiss.
And—thank god—I get the feeling breakfast is the last thing on his mind.
I finally do make breakfast, though.
An hour later.
It’s just as bad as I thought it would be, but at least it’s food.
It’s much easier to wrap my head around the act of cooking without him watching me. By the time I plate the omelets and finish making the toast, he’s still in bed sleeping, so I decide to bring it to him. I pile all of the food on a tray with glasses of orange juice and mugs of steaming black coffee and carry it to my bedroom.
But he’s not sleeping. He’s stalking around the room in nothing but his jeans, looking for something, a phone tucked between his cheek and his shoulder. “Where are you calling from?” he demands, and his voice is nothing like the sweet, gentle hum he’d used in bed with me. It sounds alarming, like gunfire.
He doesn’t even notice me when I step inside and set the tray on the dresser. He locates his t-shirt and barks, “Yeah. I’ll be right there. Stay put.”
He ends the call and throws the shirt on. “I’ve got to go.”
For some reason, I feel like a stranger in my own apartment. “Problem?”
“Yeah. I guess Ellie went out last night and never came home.”
I gasp. “Really. Where do you think—”
“No clue. I thought she was in for the night. I saw her. But she has these friends, and they’re not the best influence on her. She goes out and…” He scuffs into his shoes. “Anyway, I’ve got to go.”
Opening up my drawer, I find a pair of underwear. “Hold on. I’m coming with you.”
He holds up a hand. “No. You don’t have to—”
“I want to. And I insist, so don’t bother with a closing argument. Motion denied,” I say in my firmest voice, reaching for a t-shirt and shrugging out of my robe.
When I peek my head through the neck hole, he’s gazing at me, a small smile on his face. “You’re a ballbreaker, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.” I grin, pushing the shirt down, static crackling around my hair. “Deal with it.”
“Yes, ma’am. Remind me not to be across the aisle when you’re in the courtroom.” He’s smiling, but as he grabs his phone and checks it, I notice the worried crinkle there.
So I grab a pair of shorts and run to the bathroom. “I won’t be long.”
When I return, he’s standing there, finishing up his eggs and washing it down with orange juice. How cute is he? He didn’t want all my hard work to go to waste. Not only that, but he’s also put my scrambled eggs in between slices of toast and wrapped it in a napkin, making me a to-go sandwich. He hands it to me. “Here you go. An Egg McMuffin. Sort of. You have a to-go cup for the coffee?”
“Aw.” I take the sandwich. “Thanks. But I’m good. Let’s go.”
We go to his car. Before he backs out, he tries calling Ellie again. No answer.
“Where do you think she could be?” I ask as he sets out toward the coast, and the other end of Sapphire Shores.
“No clue. All her friends live in South Portland where she used to live. So that’s my first stop.”
There’s bitterness in his voice, but something more than that. Exhaustion. And not just from what we did last night. Clearly, this isn’t the first time his sister has let him down. I know Ellie’s side of the story—she said that her brother didn’t believe in her. I suppose it’s a vicious cycle. When other people don’t believe in you, it’s easy to not believe in yourself. To give up.
And maybe Ellie has just given up. “You think she just walked out after you left?”
He nods. “She was in bed when I left. I don’t know why… her friends were probably out. They stay out all night sometimes. And she never could pass up a good rager.”