Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“And?” I tensed as I waited for her reply.
“I told him yes. I’d met someone, and I wanted to explore it.”
“He didn’t like that, did he?”
Her gaze flittered around, and she didn’t answer.
I cupped her cheek, turning her face to mine.
“Did he do anything?” I paused. “Tell me the truth.”
“No, he didn’t touch me.”
“He said something?”
“He didn’t like it and said he didn’t understand why I didn’t see you secretly until I made sure it was going to work out, and then we could discuss ending things. He seemed to think whoever I was interested in wouldn’t stay interested in me very long.”
“Well, the bastard is wrong. Did you tell him about me?”
“No, it’s none of his business.”
I liked the no-nonsense tone of her answer. I wished she’d use it on her parents, but I knew that would take time.
“He dropped it but asked me a favor.”
“What?”
“There’s a benefit on Thursday. His father and my parents are going to be there. He asked me to go with him, so I switched my shifts and go to work tomorrow and have that night off.”
I tamped down my irrational possessiveness. “I see.”
“I’m going to tell my parents tomorrow that we’ve decided to be only friends, but I’m going on Thursday to show my support—as his friend.”
She smiled. “Besides, Elena will be back from her latest trip. I haven’t seen her in a month.”
“Will she sit at your table?”
“No. She doesn’t like Bradley. She’ll sit at another table.” She chuckled. “Or, I should say, hold court at another table. She’s very, um, entertaining.”
I liked that woman more and more with everything I heard about her.
“Brunch won’t be pleasant, but I have to do it.”
“Will you let them change your mind?”
“No,” she stated firmly. “I’ve thought about this the whole time you were gone. You were right. They’re going to be disappointed no matter what.”
“Then what?”
She looked at me, her gaze all at once tender and determined. “Then I start living my life—for me.”
“Can I be a part of that life, Nightingale?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I missed you so much while you were gone. It felt like a part of me was missing.”
“I felt the same.”
“I’m glad you’re home.”
I gathered her close, wrapping myself around her as I slid down in the bed. Our mouths met in a series of long, deep kisses. My tongue sought out her sweetness, reveling in her taste. My cock hardened as she arched against me. A long shudder racked her small frame, and I pulled back from her mouth, dragging my lips over her skin to her ear. “I’ll always come home to you.”
“Adam,” she whimpered.
“You’re mine now.”
“Yes, I am.”
Her admission exhilarated me, and as much as I wanted to have her, I could feel her exhaustion in the heaviness of her limbs. “Sleep now.”
“I want to know all about what happened when you were gone.”
“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”
“Even where you got those bruises?”
I brushed a kiss to her head. “Yes.”
“Were you in danger?”
“No.”
“Were you careful?”
“Go to sleep.”
“Were you?”
“Yes, Ms. Bossy. I was careful.”
“Good.”
I smiled at her protectiveness. “I have extra reason to be careful now.”
She nodded, her eyes serious. “Yes.”
“I liked your texts.”
“I didn’t like not being able to talk to you,” she admitted in a quiet tone. “Why don’t you have a satellite phone?”
“Tommy had it—my track record with one isn’t good. They have a habit of going over cliffs or getting forgotten on the top of the truck and I drive over them.” I stared at the ceiling, thinking. “To be honest, I never thought about it. I’m not used to having someone worry about me. Or think about calling someone while I’m gone. I’ll get better at staying in touch.”
“I don’t expect daily calls, just let me know you’re okay. A fast text. Something. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I will. I missed you, and I thought about you a lot.”
“I thought about you all the time.”
She yawned, and I pulled the blankets tighter around her. “Sleep now.”
Like a kitten, she curled up, tucking her hand under her cheek.
“Ally—”
“Hmm?”
“This benefit, what’s it for?”
“To raise money for more equipment for the pediatric ward at the hospital. Why?”
“Just asking.”
She nestled closer, her head on my chest. I ran my hand up and down her back, long, slow strokes meant to relax her. She sighed, the hand clutching my shirt loosened, and her breathing leveled out. My mind was too full to sleep yet.
An idea was forming.
I was well-known. My photographs drew a lot of attention and commanded a tidy sum. It was a worthwhile cause. A very worthwhile one.
Perhaps I should get in touch with the organizing committee. Offer something as an auction piece. Be there at the event to autograph it—personally.
I could meet a few people. Introduce myself.
I thought of Ally’s parents and their bored, cynical expressions earlier this evening. I knew they wouldn’t approve of me, despite the fact that I was well-off and successful. How I earned my money, and my lifestyle, were not up to their standards. Not to mention the ink that covered my skin—Ally had told me how much they disapproved of body art or anyone who didn’t conform to their narrow-minded world.