Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
He snorts. “I’m gonna try to sleep, and if one of those damn things actually fits me, I’ll pay you a million dollars.”
“Deal.”
He literally rips the seam on the first arm of the robe he tries to put on and sighs. I sometimes forget he isn’t the size of an average human.
“I guess I owe you a million dollars,” I say with a grimace.
With a shrug, he makes me an offer. “We can settle this debt with a kiss.”
I tie my robe and smile at him. “Whoa. I’m impressed. A kiss from me is worth a million dollars?”
“No, baby,” he says with that fire in his eyes I’ve come to crave. “No one can put a price on a kiss from you.”
I think I melt a little then.
I sidle up to him and lay my hand against his cheek.
We kiss in the small pool of moonlight next to the tub, as the sun and moon gradually take each other’s places, beckoning the light of day.
We kiss in the doorway, with him wrapped up in a towel knotted around his waist and me completely engulfed in the fluffy white robe.
We kiss in bed as we pull up the covers, the robe and towel discarded on the floor, next to the bed. And as the sun begins to rise, my mind begins to drift.
Maybe Lyam could protect me and maybe I’ll be the one that makes him see the goodness in people again.
Maybe… I don’t run this time. Maybe I don’t look for a reason to leave and force myself to raise this child as a single mom, when the father of my child is sitting right here in front of me, ready to take care of both of us, in his own fierce and unique way.
Maybe…
ELEVEN
Lyam
I roll over and feel something warm and bright hit my face.
I open one eye.
Sun. It’s sunlight hitting my face.
It’s been so damn long since I actually slept—in a bed, like a normal human instead of catnapping on a couch or in my car or on a pull-out sofa in one of the offices—that I forgot what it felt like to wake to sun on my pillow.
It isn’t that I hate sleep. I hate what happens when I close my eyes.
But I won’t think of that now.
Right now, I’ve got a warm, gorgeous, absolutely perfect angel curled up beside me. Her golden hair, strewn over the pillow, frames her face like a halo. She’s curled up facing me, her soft breaths like the gentle patter of rain on a rooftop.
It’s soothing.
I watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest. The way she’s perfectly at peace in her sleep, her hand beside her gently curled. I take in every detail while she sleeps. The half-moons of her fingers and soft slope of her hands. Her bare skin is smooth and unblemished, with a few freckles here and there because she’s so fair. And I imagine I can already see the gentle swell of her belly.
A baby.
The enormity of the responsibility—of taking care of, protecting, and raising another human—astounds me. Excites me. I wonder if it’ll be a boy or girl. Or twins? Do they know that stuff yet or is it too early? If it’s a boy, will he be like me—fiery and passionate, headstrong and impulsive? I’m not afraid of a boy like that. I know exactly how he’d think and feel, and I’d be a good father to him.
Or is it a girl? God, a girl who looks like her mama with soft blonde curls and those green eyes that would only have to plead with me once to get me to do damn near anything she wanted. And I don’t need to see her with children to know Cosette will be an amazing mother. Already, she’s pushed aside her own needs to make sure our baby’s safe and healthy.
I’ve known Cosette long enough to understand part of her comes alive when she has someone to take care of and serve.
I ought to know.
At Le Luxe, they jokingly called her the team mother, because she was the one that would take care of everyone’s needs, whether it was emotional support or practical advice. She’s empathetic and compassionate, and I love that about her.
God, it must’ve killed her to be forced to betray the people she cares about. The only thing worse would’ve been forcing her to hurt her own child.
Bastards.
But why does she run when she gets close to someone?
What is it that she fears?
“Good morning, handsome.”
I won’t ever get over waking to those earnest green eyes and that gentle voice. I don’t deserve a woman like her but now that I’ve got her, I’ll do anything, literally anything, to keep her safe.
“Morning.”
“Mmm,” she says softly. “I love that groggy voice of yours. Wait. Lyam, did you actually sleep?”