Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
“What?” I asked, not to stall for time but because I really had forgotten what he’d said.
“Do you really not believe in love stories, Christopher?” Rush asked. He leaned forward a bit, but he was careful not to disturb Pip. I was mesmerized by the way his lips moved as he spoke. “That moment when your heart beats just a little bit quicker when you meet someone you know in your gut is different? The nerves that come with those first tentative touches.”
Rush paused long enough for me to realize I was staring at his mouth. I forced my eyes up. It turned out his mouth was the safer bet because his eyes burned with something the old me would have fantasized was desire.
“That first kiss?” Rush continued. “The sigh of relief when you know everything is going to be okay. That you’re finally going to be getting the happily ever after it feels like you’ve been waiting your entire life for…?”
I had no clue if he was still talking about the books or something else. This time, I did find the need to stall for time to process everything that was happening, so I responded, “Do you?”
Good Lord, why had I asked him that? I’d meant to tell him that no, I didn’t believe it… not for me anyway, but as usual, the words I intended to say got mixed up with the ones that formed the question I really wanted an answer to.
Rush smiled softly and glanced down at Pip. His big hand dwarfed the kitten as he continued to pet him. The mere thought of those strong fingers drifting over my skin made my insides feel hot.
When Rush’s eyes lifted to meet mine, I felt ensnared.
Trapped.
With no desire to escape.
“Absolutely,” Rush said.
His answer shouldn’t have lit that little spark inside of me that I’d purposefully doused years earlier. The one I’d worked to snuff out from the moment I’d realized that I’d never be strong enough to search for my own happily ever after.
“Does every love story unfold like they do in those books?” Rush murmured as his eyes shifted toward my kitchen and presumably the three boxes of romance novels sitting on the island. “No, not likely,” he continued. “But I think that’s the point of those stories… everyone’s love story is different.” Rush paused for a moment before adding, “Different but no less magical.”
I wasn’t sure how long I stared at him in mute fascination before I caught myself. “Not everyone gets a happily ever after,” I said softly as I pulled out some latex gloves and began putting them on.
“No… no, they don’t,” Rush agreed.
I could practically feel his eyes on me. It was unnerving, but it didn’t scare me. Not like when other men watched me.
I pulled my penlight out of my medical kit and forced myself to look at Rush. He hadn’t moved, and I was right about the whole watching thing. I flicked the light on and said, “I want to check the cut to make sure there’s no glass in it.”
Rush obliged me without a word and leaned forward as much as he could without disturbing Pip. I closed the distance between us and flicked the light up to the wound. I tried to ignore the slight tremble in my hand, but considering there was a bright light bouncing around on Rush’s tanned skin, it was pretty much impossible.
“Do you have one?” I blurted before I could stop myself.
What the hell, Christopher?
“One what?” Rush asked, his breath washing over my arm in a whisper of a caress. “A happily ever after? Or a love story?”
“Forget I asked that. It’s none of my business,” I said quickly as I finished examining the cut and tried to force myself into autopilot mode. A few minutes ago, I’d been hung up on Rush’s every word, but now I wanted to escape with what was left of my pride.
I was in the process of reaching for an antiseptic wipe when Rush’s fingers ghosted over the arm I hadn’t even realized I was resting on his knee. The touch did what Rush had probably intended.
It got my attention.
A hundred and ten percent of it.
“Not yet,” he said softly as our eyes met yet again. “Not yet,” he repeated even more quietly as his eyes filled with that unnamed emotion that had stopped me short in the club that night.
The reminder of how I’d met the man was the same as being doused with ice water. My skin went cold even as my insides filled with an ugly, terrible heat. My stomach rolled violently as I tried desperately to remain even-keeled. I must have managed it because Rush stopped touching me, and I could feel his eyes shifting away.
Oh God, didn’t he know that I needed that little bit of connection? That touch that reminded me I was safe?