Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
He doesn’t seem to mind. He folds me to him, and somehow his body has become my shelter. “Come with me, then,” he approves. “We’ll workout, shower, and then head to breakfast.”
He leans in to kiss me, and I hold my hand over his mouth. “Oh no. Pasta and cake, and no toothbrush. And no clothes. Can you get them for me?”
His eyes light with mischief. “You don’t want to walk to the living room with no clothes on for my enjoyment?”
“No. I do not. Please, will you get my clothes?”
“Well, since you said please.” He leans in and kisses me anyway. “I’ll be right back. Stay here,” he teases, as if I would follow.
I climb back under the blankets. When he returns, I grab my top first. “I’ll just run to my room and change and meet you in the gym.”
“Pack your things when you’re there, and I’ll have the bellman bring your things here. I want you to stay with me tonight. If you want to?”
If I want to…
I’m pleased by the question for all kinds of reasons. Obviously, I want to know this man, and morning light has not changed that. But I also like that he can be all about control with sex—bend here, hold your hands there, I’m going to spank you, Sofia—but now he’s asking what I want. Now he’s giving me control. And now that it’s mine, my decision is easy. “I’d like that very much. Yes. I’ll pack my things.”
Approval lights his eyes and, I think, relief too? Did he think I’d say no? How can this amazing man believe I’d reject him? It’s in this moment I’m reminded he’s human. The world places him on a pedestal where they line up beneath and want things from him. That must be a lonely place to sit. More than ever, I want him to know I’m not here for what he can give me. I’m here because of what he makes me feel. And I’m not sure how to do that.
But I’m going to figure it out.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Irun long and hard, and I think I surprise Ethan in the process. We’re back in his room with a pot of coffee that we’re both doctoring our own way. He likes a lot of Splenda and creamer, and I approve.
“You're kind of a badass,” he says, sipping from his cup.
“Why do you say that?”
“You were giving me a run for my money on that treadmill.”
“Hardly,” I laugh, “but I love a good run. It’s my stress relief.” I hesitate and add, “It got me through losing my mom. It’s how I stopped crying all the time.”
“I get it,” he says softly, refilling my cup. “It’s gotten me through a few shitty moments, too.”
I like that we connect on running, it’s a part of our lives separately, and somehow also connects us.
“I’m a better person when I’m running,” he adds. “It makes me human, and it’s probably saved a few jobs. Have you done any marathons?”
“No, but I’d like to. Have you?”
“When I was younger,” he says. “I don’t have the time to train for anything but work right now.”
I wonder if that’s always or a certain project right now, but somehow it feels too complicated when we have to leave soon for my meetings, so I keep it light and tease him. “Because you’re so old now?”
He laughs an easy laugh. “Thirty-six isn’t all that old, which reminds me. How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine, and at least you have a world of accomplishments. I’m still interviewing for the right job.”
“I read your bio. You own your own clothing store.”
“That makes very little money, and I have one staff member who will carry a heavy burden if I leave for Paris for six weeks.”
“Will that be a problem?”
“I don’t think so. I was already going to ask her to work more hours so I could help my father. Of course, my father doesn’t know my plan, and he probably would have fought me tooth and nail.”
Ethan’s cellphone rings, and he glances at the caller ID. “This is work. I need to take it, but I want to talk about your father later. You go ahead and get ready. We have to leave in forty-five minutes.” He answers the line but makes no move away from me, as if he doesn’t mind that I listen in, but I do not presume that’s okay. I grab my cup, and when I glance up at him, his eyes are warm, the charge between us electric. I feel the spark between us, the thread to a bond weaving tighter, and I know then, really know, something is happening between us. Something that feels like nothing I have ever known in my life.
I turn away from him, but it feels like I’m still with him and him with me. It’s hard to explain. I enter the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror, and I look different, glowing even. Lord, help me. I look like a woman infatuated, who better be careful before she falls in love with a man who just said himself he has no time to train for a marathon. Work rules his life.