Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Unless…is he faking?
There’s been plenty of performative PDA tonight, yet this seems different. Special. We are still on the street and therefore in public. People could be watching. But not much is happening on the sidewalk. With the heavy gray clouds still overhead, everyone’s seeking shelter inside the bars and restaurants. He didn’t do it for anyone who happened to be passing. But he definitely could have done it for the line of familiar faces filling the windows of the Lighthouse Bar and Grill.
Ugh. Fuck him and his handsome face. The same one I would dearly love to sit on. His square jaw and sharp cheekbones are the rocks upon which my hopes are dashed. Which is code for: I got carried away and we’re just friends. Any romantic gestures on his part are bogus and part of our agreement and should not be read into as anything more. The end.
“Do you still want to do the sleepover?” he asks, a smile lingering on his lips. “Or would you like some space?”
I groan and crack my neck. Those muscles must be where I store all my sarcasm, stress, and sexual tension. “It would undo all of our good work if we didn’t.”
“Fuck ’em,” he says, repeating my words from earlier. “What do you want?”
“A dry towel and a bottle of wine with a drinking straw in it.”
“You have one that long?”
“I do actually,” I say. “Guess I wouldn’t be opposed to some company.”
God his smile is dazzling. Just beautiful. “You got it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
A crash of thunder wakes me. My heart is instantly pounding. Bright light flashes behind the thin bedroom curtains as another boom rocks the building. I don’t mean to shriek. But the loud-ass embarrassing noise escapes me just the same.
“You okay?” asks Connor from down the hall.
Maybe I should have offered to share my bed with him. But after the excessive sexual tension at the bar, putting him and his clever fingers in a different room seemed safest. Especially given the way he seemed unaffected by the sex show. Best not to confuse things between us any more than necessary.
“Yes,” I say. “It just startled me.”
“First coastal storm?”
“That it is.”
Since we’re both awake, I may as well view the show from the front windows. There’s enough ambient light from the street to find my way. No need to turn on the lamp on my bedside table.
The smooth wooden floor is soothing and cool beneath my bare feet as I pad down the hallway and into the living room. A heady scent of flowers fills the room. Connor is supposed to be on the sofa. But instead, the dark shadow of his body is stretched out on the rug. The man is sleeping on the floor.
“That cannot be comfortable.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “The couch was too short. I can spread out down here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He does indeed sound fine. But I need to see for myself. We both wince when I switch on a lamp. Hope my bed hair isn’t too bad. In deference to the platonic overnight guest, my usual panties and an old tee have been replaced by proper pajamas. A plain gray silk shorts and tank set.
Connor is sprawled out in just his jeans. There’s so much skin. Truly it’s a sight to behold. One that is apparently shocking enough for me to blurt out, “You’re half naked.”
He blinks and looks up at me. “Is that a problem?”
“No.”
“You sure you don’t want me to put my shirt on?”
“No,” I say with much vehemence. This statement absolutely deserves his raised brows. “I mean…it’s fine, Connor. I am still half asleep. A shirt isn’t necessary.”
He doesn’t appear convinced. But he does let it go. Half-naked is a good look on him. He has such a nice upper torso. Wide shoulders and defined musculature. Flat brown nipples and a scattering of chest hair. But friends don’t ogle friends.
Thunder crashes again and I jump like an idiot. “Shit.”
“It’s a big one.” He smiles in commiseration. “No sign of hail though, thank goodness.”
“Your car is parked outside.”
“It’ll be okay.”
The wind whistles and howls as it races by the building. Half of my view is taken up by the hotel across the road. But a handy little side street gives me a line of sight to the water. Jagged streaks of lightning appear in the sky and overhead, the big old roof groans and sighs. I am almost certain the building won’t break. Almost.
“What would you say the odds are of the roof flying off and us dying?” I ask in a nice calm tone.
“This place has stood for over a century. I think we’re okay.”
“But you’re not actually an architect or an engineer so you can’t say for sure, right?”
“Take a deep breath, Riley.” Connor joins me at the window. “You don’t like storms, huh?”