Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Sure.”
We move to the kitchen, and I give Lily a quick rundown of how the appliances work before I take a seat at the island.
I watch as she rinses some vegetables before cutting them up, and I quickly find myself mesmerized by how delicate her movements are.
Chapter 25
Lily
It was fun preparing seared scallops and baby spinach with spiced pomegranate glaze, and even if I have to say so myself, it tasted delicious.
Callan’s just placed the last of the dishes in the dishwasher when he says, “You weren’t lying when you said you’re a good cook. Thank you for the mouthwatering dinner.”
Basking in the compliment, I reply, “You’re welcome.”
He comes to take my hand, and leading me back to the living room, he puts on some music before pulling me into his arms.
I let out a chuckle, feeling a little awkward when his arm locks around my lower back, and we slowly begin to dance.
I can’t dance to save my life, but this is romantic.
Glancing up at him, and seeing desire in his eyes, my cheeks flush with heat. When I look away, he lifts a hand to my face, brushing his thumb over my cheek.
“I love when you blush,” he murmurs, his tone low and seductive.
There’s an intense fluttering in my stomach. “It’s a curse that comes with being blonde.”
The corner of his mouth curves up, and I can’t help but stare at his handsome face.
My heart clenches before it’s filled with an emotion I’ve been doing my best to keep at bay.
Don’t fall madly in love with him. Not yet.
The last thing you need is to get your heart broken by a man.
As my eyes remain glued to his face, I realize that stopping myself from falling in love with Callan is easier said than done.
The heart wants what the heart wants.
As if he can read my mind, he murmurs, “Your heart is safe with me, Lily. Stop fighting it.”
I search his face, and seeing his sincere expression, my heart begins to beat faster.
Because of the people in my life, I’ve always been cautious about letting someone in.
But I do feel safe with Callan.
Lifting myself on my tiptoes, I bring my hands to either side of his jaw and press a tender kiss to his mouth. He allows me to control the kiss, and when I pull away, our eyes lock again.
“It feels like you can see into my soul,” I whisper.
A smile curves his mouth. “You have a very expressive face.”
With an overwhelming tension building between us, we continue to dance for a couple of minutes before Callan pulls me into a hug.
With his arms tightly wrapped around me, I feel like I belong here with him.
He’s everything I’ve ever wanted and so much more.
My heart beats faster and my breaths speed up, the realization that I’ve already fallen for him hitting me with a wave of tingles spreading over my body.
All my problems fall away until my attention is only on Callan and the time we’re spending together.
Letting go of me, he asks, “Would you like more wine?”
“Please.” I turn to stare out the window at the city lights while trying to calm my racing heart.
Callan brings two glasses of wine back to the living room and hands me one. “Come take a seat.”
I sit down beside him and relax against the back of the couch.
“What’s the last painting in your collection about?” he asks.
My cheeks flush again, and feeling self-conscious, I answer, “It’s about a woman standing in the middle of people who all have their backs turned to her. It depicts loneliness.”
His eyes narrow slightly, a frown line forming between his eyebrows. “Is it a reflection of how you feel?”
Feeling seen, I nod and quickly take a couple of sips of the wine before whispering, “Yes.”
He tilts his head. “Even after meeting me?”
A smile curves my lips. “No. You’ve changed everything.”
Callan places his hand on my thigh just above my knee, and his touch sends a wave of tingles through my insides.
Lowering my hand to his, I draw lazy patterns on his skin with my fingertip. Just before dinner, he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, which allows me to follow the line of his veins snaking up his forearm.
The tension between us keeps building, making it impossible for us to focus on anything to talk about.
Before I know it, my wine glass is empty, and I set it down on the coffee table.
To break the silence, I ask, “What do you normally do on Friday nights?”
“If I’m not spending time with my family or a friend, I work. And you?”
I shrug and gesture at the TV. “I’ll either watch something on true crime, or paint, or go for a walk.”
He lifts an eyebrow at me. “True crime?”
I chuckle at his reaction. “I find it relaxing.”