Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 146666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 587(@250wpm)___ 489(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 587(@250wpm)___ 489(@300wpm)
“Feels all right to me. Be careful getting in and out. Maybe wait to get out until I get back—oomph.”
Shit.
She’d done it again. Climbed him like a tree.
“Right. I think I might know what’s happening here,” he said.
“You do? Because I don’t.”
“Are you worried about me leaving you on your own?” he asked.
“Nooo.”
That was silly. Right?
“You think I’m clinging to you like this because I don’t want you to leave me?” She tried to make herself sound incredulous.
But it actually made perfect sense.
Crap.
“That’s not what’s happening,” she insisted.
“No?” He set her down and she made herself let go of him.
“No. I’ve been on my own for years. I can stay in a strange hotel room for an hour or so.”
“All right. So, I’ll just leave now.”
For fucks sake.
She let out a disgusted groan as she found herself holding on to him once more. She was an idiot. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, baby,” he said in the most tender voice she’d ever heard anyone use.
“I keep clinging to you every time you try to leave. I think there’s every reason to be sorry.”
“Talk to me.”
Her groan was louder this time. “I don’t want to talk. I’m tired of talking.”
“What do you want then?”
“To forget about everything for a while.”
He set her down on the bathroom counter, standing between her legs.
Even with her messed up mind right now, she was still aware of how muscular and hot he was.
Gorgeous.
What would it be like to run her fingers along his arms, down his chest . . .
Eek. Stop thinking like that.
Her mind was so muddled right now.
His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, tilting her head back as he stared down at her. “What do you need to feel better?”
“You to stay here.”
“Done.”
“Done? But you can’t say done,” she replied.
“Why not?”
“Because you were going out to get food.”
“And now I’m going to stay here and order in. Hopefully they’re delivering today. Otherwise, we’re eating snacks for dinner. What do you feel like? You barely ate today so you’re going to have a big dinner even if I have to feed it to you myself.”
Holy. Heck.
She forced herself to stay still. The last thing she wanted was for him to know how turned on she was by his bossy words.
“Tell me what will make you feel better,” he insisted. “What is going to help you relax and sleep?”
“Not to think.”
He eyed her. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t . . . I don’t want to have to make decisions. My brain feels like it’s all fogged up and I can’t think. I just . . . I want you to . . .”
“To take charge?” he asked.
She couldn’t ask that of him, right?
“Would you like to spend some time in Little headspace?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t think my decision-making is all that good right now. I’m all messed up inside. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I’m running on instinct, and so while I can’t verbalize that I don’t want you to leave . . . my body is doing that for me.”
“Thank you for telling me,” he told her without a hint of impatience or ridicule. “I can take charge, but only if you agree to use your safeword if it gets too much or you change your mind or you need to slow down.”
“I . . . but I don’t want to do anything . . . like sexual or anything.”
“No, no, baby,” he said hastily. “Nothing like that. I promise. That isn’t what this is about. It’s about making you feel less stressed. Giving you a chance to relax. However, I don’t want to do this unless I’m sure that you will tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s easier just to get a single word out rather than organize your thoughts into a sentence. Does that make sense? I’ll hear that word and stop what I’m doing. We can talk. We can stop. Whatever you need. Because even if you gift me control, you’ll have the ultimate stop button.”
“Okay. I guess that makes sense.”
“You still want to use the word red?”
“Yeah, in my head, it’s a big red button and I hit it with a hammer when I need it.”
He grinned. Even though Greer thought she sounded nuttier than a fruitcake.
“I don’t like fruitcake with nuts,” she muttered.
“Really? I find they add a bit of crunch.”
She moaned and rested her forehead on his chest.
“Come on, it’s time for your bath. You’re going to lie there and relax while I sort everything else out. I’ll go get you something to wear afterward, so wait for a moment before you get undressed.”
When he returned, he held the T-shirt of his that she’d worn last night.
“I’m going to leave the door open so I can hear you if you need me. All right?”