Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
I suppose it’s for the best that we’re in different sections of the country. I’d never be able to stay away otherwise.
The thought barely crystalizes when I hear the front door open. Ordinarily, I’d be terrified. But security in the house is topnotch, and there is only one person who would be able to get through it without any problem.
Then again, it could be a killer or evil rapist. Clutching my phone, I sit up and wait, ready to scream bloody murder if I need to. From the way my heart is doing a little happy dance within my chest, I don’t think I will.
The sound of footsteps draws closer. I shouldn’t be able to identify anyone by the cadence of their step, but I recognize the pattern anyway. The bedroom door pushes open, revealing an all-too-familiar silhouette. A smile threatens to spread over my face. I hold it in ruthlessly.
“Sneaking into a woman’s bedroom is a great way to end up in jail,” I tell him, fairly proud that I don’t sound breathless and giddy.
Rye pauses at the threshold. He’s a hulking shadow, his head tilted to the side as though he’s studying me. I doubt he sees much; the room is cool shadows and inky darkness. “I was trying not to wake you.”
“And that I’d eventually wake up to find a man in my bed? That wouldn’t freak me out?”
“Well… Okay, when you put it that way, this wasn’t one of my best plans.”
I bite back that smile even harder. “It was a horrible plan. Besides, you’re too big to tiptoe effectively.”
He huffs out a laugh, slowly walking closer. “What did you used to call me? Big oaf?”
“Only when you were treading on my feet and taking up all the room in the travel bus.”
With a nearly full moon and sheers covering the windows, there’s enough light to see him clearly now. Weariness deepens the natural laugh lines on his face, but he appears happy, his gaze on me.
“All failed attempts to get closer to you, Berry.” He says it like a joke. But there’s a ring of truth underneath that makes my heartbeat stutter. It begins to pound when he reaches behind his head and casually tugs off his shirt. “I’ll do my best to be more careful with you in the future.”
“Um.” I don’t even know what I’m saying. He’s slowly stripping, matter-of-fact about it and not in the least bit teasing. It’s holding my attention all the same. His belt buckle clinks, a sound that goes straight to my happy bits, and then he’s popping the buttons of his jeans.
Pop, pop, pop.
Good God, when did getting undressed become a symphony?
“You’re supposed to be in Chicago,” I blurt when his jeans hit the floor.
He stands perfectly still, that long, strong body bathed in the ambient light coming in from the windows. For a brief second, I almost pity those who can’t see him now, this Greek statue made into living flesh. Hercules on the prowl. My gaze drifts down. No tiny dick of antiquity there. A raging erection stands proud and waiting. I’m so distracted by that particular length of flesh that I almost miss his reply.
“Am I?” he asks.
“Are you what?”
Another soft laugh. “Supposed to be in Chicago. And stop looking at my dick unless you’re going to play with it.”
A flush hits my cheeks and snaps me out of my lusty fog. “Stop pointing it at me.”
His hard-on twitches. He grins. “It’s waving in surrender.”
I meet his gaze. “What are you doing here?”
“I got a craving for dogs.”
“Dogs?”
“Hot dogs, Berry. We’ll go get some tomorrow.”
“You came all the way out here for a hot dog?” I don’t know why I’m questioning him. I should be sending Rye on his way to one of the other bedrooms. But I’m too stupidly happy to tell him the sad truth, that we can’t have sex right now.
“They’re excellent hot dogs.”
“Better than Portillo’s?” The guys drag me there any time we go to Chicago, usually with Rye leading the charge.
“Are we really debating hot dogs? Or is this some weird foreplay talk?”
I can’t help grinning, but I fall back onto my pillow with a sigh. “Not foreplay.”
“Too bad. There’s like ten hot dog puns running through my head now.”
Rye is in the act of lifting the covers to slide into bed when I stop him. “I have my period, so you might as well go to another room.”
His forward momentum is too much for him to stop with any grace, and he ends up settling down next to me. “I know.”
“You know?” I turn on my side to face him. “How do you know I’m being tormented by Aunt Flo?”
Rye’s smile is quick as a flash of light. “Aunt Flo? Why the hell do you call her…oh, wait. Okay. Yeah, that’s a visual I didn’t need.”