Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I heard that,” he said between the sounds of toothbrushing. “And if I wanted in your cave, it wouldn’t take much to get you to invite me in, sweetheart.”
I hated he thought he knew me that well. I hated that he thought I was so easy simply because I’d slept with jackass Prescott. More than anything, I hated that he was right.
The following morning found the two of us twisted around each other again like a pair of hot noodles. It felt so good, I immediately pretended to still be asleep. All I wanted was to indulge for a few minutes. I’d never had the kind of relationship where I could wake up in another man’s arms like this. I’d been so busy with work and sailing and always seeking logged hours on the water that I’d mostly gotten off with one-night stands and casual connections. Even when I’d been able to stay the night with someone, I’d avoided it. The fear of falling for someone I couldn’t have always kept other men at arm’s length. And I couldn’t have any of these men whose only time in the Caribbean was a week here and there before they flew back to whatever corporate life they led in a landlocked city.
So I was hungry, starving for this skin-on-skin indulgence. I wanted to know what it was like to be the man who got to wake up in Jonathan Worthington’s arms. I wanted to know what it felt like to pretend to be cared for like that. When I’d first met him, Worth had seemed like the standoffish type, the kind of man who wouldn’t treat his partner with tender affection. But now I strongly suspected I’d been way, way wrong.
Even when he was annoyed with me, his touch was gentle, and in this bed, both early mornings so far, the way he held me… gah. It was like… I couldn’t even describe how sweet it was. One of his hands cupped the back of my head with his fingers threaded through my hair, and the other hand rested so low on my lower back, I felt it brush the top of my ass. I wanted him so fucking badly, and I refused to feel guilty for it. I refused to feel cheap simply because I was starved for physical affection.
Starved for physical affection?
The thought stopped me in my tracks and made me rethink the past year of my life. I’d been busting my ass working for Buoy Dan’s, taking charters out one after the other with as few breaks as possible between. I remembered five specific times in the past two years when I’d found someone to hook up with. Twice it was a shared quickie blowjob with someone I’d picked up at the club in St. Mitz. Once was the client I’d fucked on a charter, once was a quick frot with a guy in Dallas when I was home for Doc’s birthday last year, and the final time was the unfortunate encounter with Prescott.
None of them had even included any kind of kissing or make-out session first.
I sighed. That was crappy. It was fine to have fun with guys like that, and I certainly didn’t have big regrets about the way I’d spent the past couple of years. I was proud of the work I’d done to further my career, and even though my dream of taking over Annie’s sailing school had been trashed, I still had a strong resume for that kind of work. Just because I was no longer going to manage the program in Hobie didn’t mean I couldn’t run a sailing school somewhere else. I needed to focus and make a plan.
I pulled away from Worth and scrubbed my face with my hands. So much for enjoying a morning cuddle. Now that the job situation was in my head, I was fucked.
Worth rolled over and reached for my hand. He wasn’t fully awake, but he was alert enough to wrap his index finger around my pinky.
“Can we talk about the elephant in the room?” he mumbled sleepily squeezing my finger, “Because I can’t say I’m hating it.”
I looked over at him, noticing his eyes were still closed and there was a pillowcase wrinkle on his cheek. The nest of dark hair on his head was shot through with strands of silver as if a magpie had deliberately woven tinsel into its home.
“Is the elephant your breath? Because if so, I’m hating it.” I teased.
“Get back over here and snuggle me. We will tell no one of this.”
This Jonathan Worthington was someone I could quickly get on board with. I scooted over and smushed my body up against his side, laying my head on his chest without realizing my own nest of bed head was enough to choke him.