Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Did you sleep well?” he asks as the coffee grinder powers down as part of his morning coffee ritual.
“Like a baby.” A confused, neglected baby who wondered what she’d done wrong because the difference between Friday and Saturday night was like night and day. Ah, that’s why. Saturday began with such sweet promise, pardon the pun. Then he’d sex’d me so hard in a dressing room of a high-end boutique that not only did the sale associate hear us but probably the patrons of a nearby restaurant, too. Poor Charlotte. She could barely look at us when we emerged from the dressing room. Although Whit did take great joy in pointing out she wasn’t the only one with an avid interest in her shoes. I hope her commission makes up for the awkwardness.
By the time we’d gotten back to the apartment, our messy breakfast had been cleared away and the apartment looked as pristine as a showhouse. Whit had ordered dinner in—a Lebanese mezze plater with enough food to feed half a dozen—and we’d sat cross-legged on the living room floor, eating and talking and laughing. Sharing stories. Though we were careful to avoid the topic of the past, glossing over any cracks in the conversation for fear of invoking Connor.
I miss my brother, and I always will. But I refuse to let him sit like a wall between us. All in all, the evening had been so good. Warm. Fun. Intimate. At least until it was time for bed.
Salty? Moi?
You bet.
“Nice pajamas.”
I hear the smirk in Whit’s voice and angle my gaze his way. I’m not wearing pajamas but one of his T-shirts. I’ve also borrowed a pair of his sweatpants, rolled at the waist and ankle, though he probably can’t see those from this angle. I’d found them in a neatly folded pile in the laundry room last night and thought to borrow them. The pants are maybe a bit unnecessary given the air in this temperature-controlled haven, but I kind of feel like he set the tone when he showed me into a different bedroom last night.
“Thanks for the loaner.”
“Anytime.” He turns back to the machine as I mutter,
“It’s just a temporary measure.”
He turns fully then and leans back against the countertop. His fingers looped around the ridiculously tiny handle on the espresso cup, he watches as I gently pluck the cotton between my thumb and finger.
“I’ll obviously wash this.”
“Weren’t there pajamas in…”
“The whole new wardrobe you paid for?” I probably shouldn’t sound so ungracious. A red-cheeked Charlotte said she’d arrange for delivery of “our purchases” and shortly after we got back last night, a guy from concierge arrived at Whit’s door with one of those brass hotel trolleys. It was laden with bags and boxes branded with the boutiques name, literally spilling with stuff I didn’t try on—or need! I’ll probably be back at Doreen’s later today, and there is literally no space in my tiny closet. But my protests fell on deaf ears. I can’t help but secretly love it. Not only that he’d buy me stuff but that he’d choose it. Such a bossy attitude.
“Who knew shopping could be so much fun.” His words trail off as his eyes move over me heatedly. “Not that I don’t like to see you wearing my clothes.”
Especially when I’m not wearing a bra, I think cynically. With that thought, I put down my cup and fold my arms against the countertop, leaning against them. No one needs to see nipples like doorknobs this early, least of all him.
He probably doesn’t even want to see them, or else why did I sleep alone last night.
“There were pajamas.” One pair I’d chosen. Three pairs I had not. “Along with some seriously slinky nightgowns that I think Charlotte must’ve boxed by mistake.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. They aren’t the kind of things I would’ve chosen for myself.”
“How so?”
“High-end fripperies in silk and lace? That’s not me at all.”
“You forget, I’ve seen your underwear.” After bringing the cup to his lips, he moves his neck with a swallow.
“Yeah.” I squirm slightly in my seat because he’s got me there. He can have me too, right here, right now. I just don’t know how to bridge the gap. “I’m more practically minded when it comes to sleepwear.”
“The way I see it, some clothing is meant to be worn just for the joy of taking off.”
“Sounds like you know what it is to wear a bra.”
“What?” The word bubbles with laughter before he brings his cup to his lips for a leisurely sip.
“The joy of sliding off your bra after a day at work?” I give a blissful sigh before giving in to a smirk. “But I take it that’s not what you meant?”
“Not, but I’m happy to relieve you of your bra anytime.”
“You don’t happen to know how I come to be the owner of so many clothes, do you?” Unable to hold his tiger bright gaze, I fasten my fingers to the rim of my cup, rotating it against the counter.