Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“What kind of question is that?” He gives me a teasing eye roll before taking them from my hand. Our fingers brush in the process, and I think back to the supermarket.
I dump the chocolate cake mix into a bowl and measure out the oil and water.
“Crack the eggs into the mix,” I say before dumping the liquids in.
Two perfect cracks later, and we’re ready to mix.
“You want to do the honors?” I hand him the mixer. “Start on low and in the middle. We’re mixing until it’s well combined. We want it to be the same color and consistency all over.”
He turns the mixer on, following my instructions to the letter. While he’s doing that, I check my phone. My text to Margaux is still showing as unread. I’m almost positive she’s passed out. If all the kitchen commotion wakes her from her slumber, I only pray she checks her phone before rolling out of bed.
Next, I hand Roman a spatula from the drawer.
“We’re going to spread the mix into this baking pan,” I say. “And just so you know, it’s totally okay if you leave a little bit behind. Pro tip: licking the leftover batter is the best part about baking a cake.”
I place my hand over his as we pour the batter into the dish. Maybe it wasn’t necessary, but I wanted an excuse to touch him again. Now that those floodgates have opened, I don’t know that I can go back to keeping my hands to myself, so to speak.
They say if you have to question whether a man likes you, then he doesn’t like you.
I think it’s safe to say Roman has made himself crystal clear on where I stand with him.
The oven beeps when it reaches 350, and I slide the dish onto the center rack before setting the timer.
“Thirty-five minutes?” he asks. “That’s all it takes?”
Confused, I squint. “How long did you think it took to bake a cake?”
With a glint in his dark eyes, he says, “I was kind of hoping it took longer than that . . .”
“Oh?” I say before reading between the lines. He was hoping he was going to have more time with me. “Oh . . . um, well, after it bakes, it’s going to have to cool for a while. An hour at least. Maybe longer? Two if we want to be extra safe. I imagine marshmallow frosting melts pretty easily . . .”
Reaching, he grabs my hips and pulls me close, until my body is pressed against his and I can hear his heart beating fast in my ears.
Or maybe it’s mine.
Everything’s happening too fast to process.
A slow smile spreads across my face as every inch of me comes alive at his touch. The war that’s been going on between my head and my heart all this time turns cold. For the first time in forever, my thoughts grow quiet, and my body does all the talking.
Placing his finger beneath my jaw, he tips my chin up until our mouths are perfectly aligned. His lips part, as if there’s something he wants to say, but whatever it is, he keeps it to himself.
“I’ve been living in the dark for so long,” he says, “and for the first time in years, I feel like someone has come along with a candle to show me the way out.”
My heart breaks at the thought of him wandering around in his own darkness, not able to find his way out until I came along.
“I’ve never met anyone like you.” He brushes a wisp of hair from my forehead. “I’m feeling things I never thought I’d feel again, finding pieces of myself I thought were gone forever.”
I search his face before surrendering to his powerful gaze, soaking in his every word.
How can something so wrong feel so perfect, so meant to be at the same time?
I don’t have time to make sense of it because his hands tighten around my hips. He pulls me against him once more, as if I wasn’t nearly close enough before. Then without another word, his mouth crashes down on mine, sweet like sugar, hot like cinnamon. His tongue slips between my lips, meeting mine. My body turns liquid hot, melting in his arms. Complete surrender.
Within an instant, his hands are in my hair, and I’m kissing him so hard I’m forgetting to breathe. Every fiber of my body wants every atom of his.
The heat of his kiss ignites a frenzied rush in my soul, one that dances down my spine before spiraling all the way to my fingertips. I’m flooded with a lightness unlike anything I’ve ever felt before—one that makes me feel like I’m standing on a cloud yet anchored into place at the same time.
His kiss breathes life into my soul.
His touch grounds me.