Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“We’re not doing the sex bit of the no-strings sex thing properly, Spencer,” she said, her voice thick with sleep when he tugged her into his arms, spooning her in front of him.
“Says who?” he asked, planting a kiss on her temple.
“We haven’t even had sex yet.”
“You in some kind of rush?” he asked, turning off the light. “You got a sex deadline or something? An intercourse record you need to break?”
She giggled and then yawned.
“It’s just this is the second night without sex.”
“You came, I came, everybody came. That’s a win for Team . . . Spaff? Dense? Both of those are terrible, let’s never do that again.” His improvised couple names just made her laugh even harder, while he kept a perfectly straight face. “Now get some sleep, darling. Maybe we’ll get the sex thing right tomorrow.”
For the second day in a row, Daff found herself waking up—alone—in Spencer’s bed. She crawled out of the warm bed and winced when she heard the thundering downpour outside. Fabulous. More late-winter rain.
For the first time—yesterday morning she’d been too freaked out and last night and the night before she’d been way too exhausted—she looked around Spencer’s bedroom. It was lovely. That was the only word that came to mind. It was light and airy and just incredibly welcoming. Decorated in creams and browns, it suited Spencer’s old-fashioned sensibilities to a T. The king-size sleigh bed appeared to be handcrafted, with intricate carvings in the head and footboards. The rest of the furniture had been made to match the bed, all carved from multigrained walnut. She ran her hand over the curved footboard of the bed, marveling at how warm and silky the wood felt beneath her hand. She looked out the window, to Mason’s house just a few yards away. Spencer’s house was very new, having just gone up in the last year, after Mason had designed it. The Carlisles now shared the town’s overlook hill. The houses were far enough away to allow the brothers their privacy, but also easily within walking distance of each other. The lights were on, and she imagined Daisy was getting ready for work. Her sister’s fantastically wealthy fiancé lazed about the house all day, but Mason would soon realize his dream of becoming an architect, of course. Taking her sister away for five years in the process.
Daff sighed at the thought, wishing Daisy could stay, even while knowing it wasn’t that far and the couple would visit often. Still, it would be a huge adjustment, and Daff hated change.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee was starting to seep into the room, and Daff groaned as it coiled around her then sinuously wound its way up to her nose. Feeling like a character in a cartoon, she followed her nose and was halfway down the stairs by the time she comprehended that the pajama top was held together by just the one button between her breasts. The rest of her very naked body was on display. She dragged the two ends of the shirt together and used one hand to secure it.
Spencer, already fully dressed, was fussing around in the kitchen.
“You’re having breakfast this morning,” he said by way of greeting, not bothering to look around. His tone brooked no arguments.
“Fine. I’m starving.”
“No eggs, right?” She shuddered at the thought.
“If you’re making it, I suppose I’ll have some, too.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and she froze.
Shit.
This was exactly what she had feared, getting involved with Spencer, that she would start compromising again. Start pretending and putting up an act. Being who he wanted her to be and not who she really was. Even if she didn’t truly know who she was.
His shoulders tensed, and he turned around to pin her with a stare.
“You don’t like eggs, right?”
She opened her mouth to answer in the affirmative, but what came out was, “I mean, I don’t mind them.”
His dark, heavy brows slammed together, making him look formidable.
“Yeah, but do you like them?”
“What are you having?”
“What does that matter? What I’m having has no bearing on what you’re having.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble.” His eyes widened, and he folded his arms over his huge chest while he continued to look at her like she was some kind of lab experiment.
“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before. You seem to have difficulty answering yes or no questions, Daff,” he pointed out gently. “Tell me, very quickly, without thinking about it, do you like eggs?”
“No.” She paused, then shut her eyes miserably. “I don’t know.”
“Oh darling.” He sighed. “Come over here and give me a good-morning kiss.”
She padded over to him, her head downcast, feeling miserable and stupid and spineless. He fisted the lapels of the top and dragged her to him for a very thorough, very enjoyable kiss. He lifted his head and smiled sweetly at her.