Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
"Very," I whisper.
He rises to his feet, far too gracefully for someone his size, and strides toward me. I watch him in awe like always. He's so damn beautiful to me, sexy in ways that make my knees weak. Looking at him, I know he could crush me with one hand if he wanted to do it. But I also know just how gentle those hands can be when they're on my body or testing fabrics between his blunt fingers. He's a walking contradiction, the man who has everything but wants me.
When he reaches me, he sweeps me into his arms without a word.
I don't complain. The only place I want to be right now is in his arms. In them, the way I feel about him doesn't feel overwhelming. It feels exactly right. No, it feels better than that. In his arms, the way I feel about him, the things I want from him, aren't wrong. They aren't seedy or wicked. They're beautiful.
He carries me up the stairs, his boots heavy on the steps.
I'm too busy looking at him to look at the rest of the house, but the lack of Christmas decorations is obvious. "You didn't decorate for Christmas."
"Didn't plan on celebrating," he mutters.
"Why not?"
His cocoa eyes drop to mine, his expression somber. "Christmas felt like a fucking blade this year," he says, his chest rumbling against my side.
"Oh. Why?"
"Your final shoot is three days after Christmas. Seemed more like the end of my world than a reason to celebrate, Georgia."
"Blaze," I whisper, stunned. "You really feel like that?"
Hope tries to burst out of my chest while I wait for his answer, but I rein it in, a little afraid I'm reading more into this than I should. Terrified he doesn't mean it as much as I want him to mean it. The end of my time at the company has been weighing on me heavily for weeks because I didn't want to leave him.
Does he know how many times I show up at the office just to see him? Almost daily. Sariah covers for me; tells him I have fittings even though I don't. She knows I'm crazy about him. Everyone knows.
If he doesn't feel the same way, I don't think I'm going to survive it. Just the thought feels like a knife deep in my chest, cutting through vital organs. I don't like it.
Please, Baby Jesus, can I please have him for Christmas? I won't ask for anything else ever again.
"I did." His boots hit the last step. He's not even breathing hard as he looks down at me. "I don't anymore."
"Oh." I lick my lips as he carries me down the hall, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure he hears it. I certainly do. Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Like a war drum calling soldiers to battle. Even the floor moves beneath Blaze's feet, though I'm guessing that's his doing and not a thousand horses charging down the hall. "Why…why not?"
He doesn't answer me, at least not right away. He carries me into the master bedroom, stopping only long enough to hit the light switch. I gape around me. His bedroom is easily the size of an entire house. Three deep steps lead from a sitting area into the bedroom proper. His bed, ornately carved from the same dark wood as the floors, rests in its own oasis of tranquility. Three entire walls and the ceiling are glass. Everywhere I look, I see silvery clouds and raindrops.
"Wow," I whisper.
He grunts, carrying me down the steps toward the bed. At five-ten, I'm not remotely close to short. But his bed is so high up, I think I'll need a ladder to climb into it. He deposits me in it, laying me back. I sink into it like a cloud, groaning in pure bliss.
I groan again when he crawls over me, planting his arms on either side of my head. He keeps his weight off me, just staring at me like he can't look away.
"This became the best fucking Christmas I've ever had when you called me daddy the first time today, Georgia," he says, his voice soft. His lips brush mine, as soft as his voice.
"It's not Christmas yet."
"Feels like it," he mutters, nipping at my bottom lip. "Feels like my birthday, Thanksgiving, and the Fourth of July, too."
"For me too," I whisper.
"You're scared of what's between us."
"That's the thing, Blaze," I whisper, shaking my head. "The fact that I'm not scared is what scares me."
"Why, little one?"
"Because I love it so much," I admit, my voice shaking with sincerity. "Because I've never wanted anything like this before." Tears fill my eyes, though I'm not sure why. Maybe because I've never felt this vulnerable or exposed before. When he looks at me, he sees me, in ways no one else has. Those cocoa eyes sift right through every secret thought, coax out every hidden desire. "What if…what if I want more than you?"