Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“How are you feeling, Ava?” he asks with a cheeky smile, and Ava’s cheeks turn a fetching shade of pink. Embarrassed?
“Good.” She looks away from my exhibitionist friend and finds Kate, tilting her head. It’s a silent message. She wants to talk like girls talk. Good. Because I need to talk to Sam like a girl too. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” She dips out of the lounge, and Kate makes no attempt to untwine her body from Sam’s.
“I think you’re wanted,” I say, subtly hinting for her to exit so I can pick Sam’s brain. He must have talked about me with Kate. Ava’s friend must have divulged something.
Kate lifts the sheets and peeks under them before returning her eyes to me. “Want to turn around?”
Realization dawns and Sam laughs as I quickly pivot, giving them my back while Kate dresses.
“Thanks,” she says, moving past me, now decent. I make sure she’s gone before I turn and find Sam shoveling cornflakes in his gob.
“Good night?” I ask, interested. I don’t think I can ever recall him not being at The Manor on a Saturday night. What gives?
He peers up at me, smiling around his spoon. “Surprisingly yes, considering it was rather vanilla. You?”
The best. I look over my shoulder. “Very.”
“You cleared the air?”
“Not exactly.” Not in the sense he’s talking about, anyway. But I do feel like I’ve moved mountains in the understanding department. It’s a start.
“You haven’t told her about The Manor?”
“No.”
“About what happened on Tuesday?”
“No.”
“Your drinking problem?”
I scowl. “I don’t have a drinking problem.” I need to remove my head from my arse.
Sam drops the spoon in the bowl, and it clangs loudly. “Have you told her anything?”
I feel my bottom lip jut out sulkily, my hands sinking into my jean pockets. “I don’t know where to fucking start, Sam.”
“How about with The Manor?” he asks, sitting up and pulling a cushion over his lap. “Then maybe I can stop biting my fucking tongue when your hotel comes up in conversation.”
“Why, you planning on having lots of conversations?” I ask with a laugh. This time, Sam scowls, and it’s quite a sight.
“She’s a cool chick.”
The fuck? Sam doesn’t see chicks as cool. He sees them as playthings. “Wow,” I blurt.
“Wow, what?” Kate asks as she saunters back in and drops to the couch next to my mate. She looks between us, and Sam gives me a look to suggest I need to pull my finger out and start spilling some truths.
“Nothing,” I mumble, throwing him a look to suggest I’ll do it in my own good time. Like when? When she’s legally bound to me? What with? Marriage? A kid?
Both?
My eyes drop to the floor. I can’t believe the things I’m thinking. She’ll say no. Probably now, and definitely after discovering everything there is to know about me. Uncomfortable, I back out of the room to find Ava, needing to stabilize. Only she can do that. I hear the buzz of a hairdryer and approach the room, and when I open the door, she’s bent over, her dark waves being blasted hurriedly. She looks like she’s in a rush. To get back to me?
Taking myself to her bed, I climb on, bouncing, testing the mattress. Then I settle back and enjoy my view. She’s definitely rushing. I pull my phone out and take a picture of her roughly running her fingers through the strands, and gaze around at her room. Her temporary accommodation. So where is she going to live when she leaves here? I ponder that, spying some trainers in the corner. Old trainers. She runs?
The hairdryer stops, and her hair wafts through the air. She finds me and takes in my reclined, relaxed form. Shudders. “Hey, baby.” My gaze takes a lazy jaunt down her incredible body.
“Hey, yourself.” Her smile is everything. “Comfortable?”
I pout, shuffling. “No.” This bed isn’t at all comfortable. Regardless . . . “I’m only comfortable with one thing under me these days.” You. I get up, making my way to her, savoring the vision of her heightening craving the nearer I get. That’s what I can do to her. Some might call it manipulation in a sense. I call it security.
I reach her, and I know she’s expecting me to ravish her. I don’t. I take her shoulders and turn her to face her wardrobe. I get as close as I can to her back, leaning past to browse the dresses. All lovely dresses. Some way too short. I find the perfect one. It’s cream, will look beautiful against her skin tone and dark hair. “Put this on,” I whisper, feeling her body stiffen. “And make sure there’s lace underneath it.” Lots and lots of lace.
Her shaky hand extends and accepts the dress without question, and I make sure when I release it that my touch falls precisely and softly over her naked breast. She shivers. I’m not without a reaction myself, my cock hammering against my jeans. Take her. I roll into her. Work her up.